


Well It Goes Like This

by Corde_And_Dorme



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Anakin doesn't fall, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker centric, Anakin has to choose a new career path, Anakin is a Jedi Hunter, Anakin makes different and better choices, Anakin raises children, Communication Failure, Embedded Images, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Force Bond (Star Wars), Jedi Younglings - Freeform, Nobody tells Anakin about the Group Chat, Order 66, Surprise Hondo, Unreliable Narrator Anakin Skywalker, finding other Jedi, fuck is a starwars curse word fight me, good for him!, sike!, those children are not Leia or Luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corde_And_Dorme/pseuds/Corde_And_Dorme
Summary: At the end of it all, the thing is: Palpatine breaks his heart.(or the one where Anakin makes the hard choice, the right choice, the other choice. Then he keeps making it.)
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 321
Kudos: 807
Collections: Star Wars Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the Anakin Skywalker MAKES DIFFERENT CHOICES FIC! Membership is voluntary, but you have all been dragged in it, by me, so. there. We have cookies and popcorn, we're cool like that, even though we're technically not part of the dark side ;)  
> This idea came about because I wanted to see Obi-Wan and Anakin as pirates after the heart wrenching Order 66 shenanigans that just HURTS. Then I realized, it would be really cool if Anakin stole (*cough*SAVED*cough*) some children from the temple after Order 66. Which then made me think. Well. Wait. Why don't I just write that?  
> This is that.  
> :) Enjoy the show!  
> Story edited by the wonderful [blackdragonhellfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackdragonhellfire/pseuds/blackdragonhellfire) and art by the amazing [Ms_NothingSpecial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_NothingSpecial/pseuds/Ms_NothingSpecial)  
> (Title inspired by 'Hallelujah', which should tell you all you need to know, shouldn't it?)

It’s easy to be distracted during war, in the middle of battle, while the world is falling apart all around you. You can’t fall apart too. There's too much chaos to add more chaos to it. Someone has to be the adult, somehow has to hold the world together with plastitape and verve. Someone has to do it. 

Someone has to be just crazy enough to think they can. An army needs a General, not exactly the other way around and for so long, Anakin has embodied all that war requires. The willingness to throw himself into battle, the fierce loyalty to the Republic, and most importantly, the unshaking understanding that he has to win therefore he does. 

Yet, back on Coruscant... that all falls away. 

Anakin is just another Jedi among hundreds of thousands. A face among the crowd. The anonymity is both welcome and not. Anakin wants to be seen, but sometimes, times like these, he can see why disappearing into the background would be welcome. 

The planet is quiet. The kind of stillness that echoes after blaster fire and bombs and explosions into a tinny sound in his ear. The absence of sound is almost as aggravating as the anxiety that comes from the suspense. Something has to happen. It has to happen, because it is already happening, and he just doesn’t know it yet.

Anakin is always angry these days, too. Never stops. Like a constant companion that doesn’t hear him when he asks them to leave. Control slips through his fingers, like water that he tries desperately to cup. It runs over and over and over. 

He can feel himself losing it. The pain, too. Like a never ending sore. He can’t stop poking it.

His life is anger and pain and he is so very tired. The Jedi he’s told about his exhaustion and struggles don’t seem to care either. Medical or otherwise. Padme can only do so much, either, and especially not while he’s having nightmares that keep him away from the precious hours of sleep he would be able to snatch anyway.

It doesn’t help that he hasn’t slept a full night’s sleep since he killed Dooku at the Chancellor’s request. He’s not sure if it’s related, but the dreams he has can’t be. Dreams of Padme dying. Screaming out in fear and pain. Tearing him from one sleepless night to another. They get worse and worse. 

**_Troubled, you seem._ ** Yoda had commented.

 ** _No duh_** **.** Anakin had wanted to snap right back, but he kept his tongue in check by sheer force of will. **_Just tired._**

 **_Hmmm, troubled, all of us are, then._ **Yoda had retorted with a snort.

Even Obi-Wan’s kind words and praise hasn’t been able to keep his spirits up long. All the good in the world just keeps getting bogged down by the bad. Still. He had precious few words to hold close to his heart. Those few were mostly from Obi-Wan and Padme.

 **_I’m proud of you._ **

**_I love you Ani._ **

He holds them close all the more.

* * *

There are so many people inside his head he hardly remembers what his own voice sounds like sometimes.

**_There is much conflict in you, Anakin._ **

**_Back for more Skywalker?_ **

**_Sir, we need to go!_ **

**_I know, Anakin._ **

**_The Jedi Order is your life._ **

He can feel exhaustion tearing at his mind. How his entire thought process is fuzzy and nonlinear. Trying to answer all the impossible questions in his head is like attempting to climb a mountain without any gear or the Force. _What is he supposed to do about Padme? How can he protect everyone he cares about, the ones who are left anyway?_

_And when the fuck is he supposed to sleep inbetween?_

He is tired.

“Anakin,” Palpatine greets amiably, like always. He is tired, too, but he is smiling, “walk with me.”

They walk together in silence. It is not peaceful. Anakin’s mind can’t stop spinning on and on and on; over a million different things. The War. Padme. His Clones. Ahsoka. Padme. Obi-Wan. The war. His Clones. Padme. The war. His mind is a broken record and he doesn’t know how to fix it. 

Nothing he does works. Every move he makes is just another step. Backwards. Forwards. He doesn’t know anymore. Under it all is the simmering, flickering rage that is his constant company. Rage at the Separatists keeping him from the Jedi and his Wife. Anger at the war that keeps everything in a hazy in between, twilight. 

Oh. Palpatine is talking. He should probably listen.

They are walking by the crystal clear stained plasti-glass, when Palpatine begins to really go off course, and subsequently when Anakin starts to listen.

“My mentor taught me everything about the Force, you know... even the nature of the dark side.”

_Dark Side?_

The words spark _ill-terror-intrigue_ in all Jedi and Anakin is no stranger to it.

He knows Palpatine loved the history and mythology of the Jedi and Sith. They talk often about the Force. It was a curious kind of person who cared about the Force, yet who couldn’t touch it. Anakin always thought a life like that would cripple him worse than having his other arm cut off.

But the way Palpatine is talking... the way he is speaking... Anakin gets a bad feeling.

“You know the dark side?”

It seems so... off. 

Palpatine only continues, turning beseeching eyes on him. He can feel himself being pulled in. Can feel himself give way to listen. 

Force, he just wants _someone_ to tell him how to stop all of this.

“Anakin, if one is to understand the great mystery, one must study all its aspects, not just the dogmatic, narrow view of the Jedi. If you wish to become a complete and wise leader, you must embrace a larger view of the Force. Be careful of the Jedi, Anakin," here he pauses, long enough to pique Anakin’s true interest, “they fear you. In time they will destroy you.” 

Anakin, in the privacy of his own mind, already thought they had.

“Let me train you.”

_Train? What could Palpatine possibly offer to train him in? Politics? No thanks, Obi-Wan had tried already._

“I won't be a pawn in your political game.” Anakin denies, haughtily. “The Jedi are my family.”

The only family he had, for good or for ill. Even though the Jedi disliked the idea of emotions clouding their feelings, he knows this is the one attachment he was allowed. The Jedi as a whole, just not as individuals. As if him being attached to the Jedi through Obi-Wan wasn’t enough. Padme as his wife isn’t allowed, but Anakin had long been doing things that weren’t allowed. 

“Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi,” Palpatine continues, his voice a low croon as he spoke, such passion and devotion. Anakin could feel himself being drawn in. Respect for Palpatine makes him listen, but interest in the subject matter keeps it. “Learn to know the Dark Side of the Force, Anakin, and you will be able to save your wife from certain death.”

Anakin freezes. 

_Save Padme?_ He was listening before, but now he _is_ listening.

“What did you say?” Anakin demands, only this time... he knows that feeling. It seeped in through the walls, through his shields. The darkside was flooding around him. He had enough anger and fear, all wrapped up with other petty small negative emotions that it didn’t necessarily feel bad. It felt like he was being pet. Not a hit, like he was used to, or a hug, like the lightside of the Force.

It was different and altogether distracting. 

“Use my knowledge, I beg of you –“

It takes entirely too long for Anakin to muddle through it all, to turn his shocked eyes on Palpatine. To see the truth for what it is. It hits him. All the little things. All the hints. It’s as impossible as it is probable.

“You're the Sith Lord!”

He can hardly believe it, and yet, it’s the only thing that fits.

“I know what has been troubling you...” Palpatine begins earnestly. “Listen to me. Don't continue to be a pawn of the Jedi Council! Ever since I've known you, you've been searching for a life greater than that of an ordinary Jedi...a life of significance, of conscience.”

Palpatine hits the nail on the head and Anakin hates him for it. He hates him, but he can’t deny it.

Yet he does.

“You’re wrong," he snarls right back. 

Anakin is not an idiot, though he feels like one at this moment. All the signs are there. 

In his hand, his saber is lit without conscious thought.

He is in danger. He defends.

Anakin doesn’t tremble as he holds his lightsaber to Palpatine’s throat, but oh how he wanted to. He was too well trained for an ‘accident’ but Force he wished he wasn’t. The betrayal stung just as horridly as the reveal of truth.

Palpatine looks sad. Disappointed. Anakin is struck then, the closest thing he had to a father figure was disappointed in him. Now there is hurt, too, to layer in with the anger and spitting rage directed at the man. He feels so conflicted already, this nearly breaks him.

“Are you going to kill me?”

He swallows. 

_It is not the Jedi way._

Yet he remembers cutting down Dooku.

 _It is_ **_not_ ** _the Jedi way._

“I would certainly like to.”

Palpatine turns from him, and Anakin can’t help but let his lightsaber drop, his arms weak like noodles. 

For all the betrayal that swamps Anakin, this is the Chancellor of the Republic. Obi-Wan would have his head if he didn’t consider the ramifications of his actions. Both for him and the Order as a whole.

“I know you would,” Palpatine sounds... proud, “I can feel your anger. It gives you focus, makes you stronger.”

It hits Anakin in different spots. Pleasure and disdain in equal measure, until all that is culminated in exhaustion.

His words are all truth. This man, this Sith Lord, knows him better than he knows himself. How he uses all he knows of Anakin against him, twisting his words, forcing him to confront just how much of a Jedi he really is not. He hits every weakness Anakin doesn’t know he actively needed to shield against. Every weakness he should have.

He thinks, perhaps, the worst thing is that he is the kind of Jedi that a Sith clearly saw worth in.

When he had been a slave, he remembers the helplessness like a thorn in his side. The memories never faded, only getting sharper and more prickly if he ever were to pick it out of his heart. When he was a young learner at Obi-Wan’s side, he knew he had been needy, pushing boundaries, a hellion, but Obi-Wan had taken it all in stride. Now, as an adult, he feels older than his twenty years. Looking into the face of evil, into the face of what the Jedi had touted as the ultimate evil, Anakin could only see a reflection of his desires.

In the end, he knows his path. The path of a Jedi. 

To be a Jedi, meant to deny oneself of all things like this.

Things like his wife. Things like Palpatine. Things like the Darks side.

This is a trial. 

Life is a trial, but this is a test.

“I am going to turn you over to the Jedi Council." He tells the Sith, unable to think of the man without being absolutely seething mad about it. 

He is tired. Oh so tired. Yet his anger keeps him sharp. It’s all he has in this moment. No Jedi code, no Master at his side facing against their ultimate evil. Just his anger and this Sith; both familiar friends. 

“Of course you should,” Palpatine agreeing is the last thing he needs, “but you're not sure of their intentions, are you? What if I am right and they are plotting to take over the Republic?”

Palpatine hardly has to sow his seeds of discord and distrust within Anakin. He knows well how Anakin feels.

Foolish, Anakin curses himself. So very foolish.

He turns to go, his heart beating as if he had battled a great beast, as if he was in a great conflict.

“You have great wisdom, Anakin.” Palpatine couldn’t help but call out as he walked away, his back half turned to him. “Know the power of the dark side. The power to save Padme.”

Anakin knows temptation. Knows anger and fear. Knows so few truly good emotions he had to lock himself down tight, keeping his stride, ignore the blossoming want to turn back.

* * *

He finds Master Windu in the hangar bay, walking quickly in the direction of the Council Chambers. Anakin falls into step beside him, much to the man’s consternation. He gets a side eye for his effort, but he’s still trying to figure out how to say what needs to be said, how to admit that the Council is right, how they’ve been right this whole time.

His silence speaks for him.

Windu must feel that he needs clarity, because he doesn’t push.

There are only five Masters and no one calls a full meeting as Windu takes his seat. Of course they wouldn't. Obi-Wan is currently in pursuit of Grievous, Yoda is on Kashyyyk, and everyone else is in the middle of their own kind of encounter. Anakin doesn’t feel right taking the seat which is ‘his’ and instead stands in the center. His rage was somewhat satisfied when he realized that the Master’s took some manner of significance from that.

Saesee Tiin sat up straighter.

“Speak your piece, Skywalker,” Fisto demands.

Anakin takes a deep breath. Finds the courage to say what needs to be said, even as he wishes to shut up. 

“The Chancellor is the Sith Lord.”

A variety of emotions, of reactions, fill the space with the full power of five Jedi Master’s behind it.

“Sithspit,” Windu curses. 

“Hellfire and skyfall,”

It is the very first time that Anakin can remember them not questioning first before cursing. Usually he and his Master give them a run for their credits and force them to really question things before the expletives come out.

Padme never made him explain himself so extensively.

This war had gone on for so long.

“Anakin...” Master Windu looks... defeated. “Are you sure?”

Anakin bows his head. “Yes.”

They take him at his word. 

It’s... startling. This isn’t the first time they’ve heard something about the man to distrust him, sure, but this is Anakin bringing the information. Anakin isn’t blind, or stupid, or ignorant. He remembers when they had asked, through Obi-Wan, for him to spy on the Chancellor. Remembers how very skeptical they always were of the good news, especially when it came from the Chancellor himself.

He takes a breath, still so very pissed.

_How did he never see it before?_

Anakin is not stupid or blind, but he has been blind sided and betrayed; it smarts like any wound of its calibre.

“If what you have said is true, then we don’t have time to wait. We have to arrest him. _Now_.”

 **_If what you said_ ** _– well fuck you too Windu._

It prickles, of course it prickles, that he doesn’t merit the same kind of blind obedience as the rest of the Council does. Luckily, Anakin is honestly too freaked out to care. The Sith Lord had just admitted to him who he was, had just tried to entice him to his side with words he wished desperately to believe in - but can’t. He can’t believe them, because they are lies. The Dark Side is the other side of himself he keeps hidden and stifled and weak and...

Hungry.

His anger flares. He hates so strongly that it should scare him, but it doesn’t. Strength and power are all Anakin has ever known. This is just... another bump to get over.

_What else was he to do?_

_Who else was he to tell?_

Still, he wished a friendly face was around, to tell him he was alright, to reassure him. Obi-Wan wasn’t here. Neither was Padme. 

Blind panic hit him when he thought of her - she’s pregnant, what if something happened? 

His visions are so very real in that moment. Fire and brimstone are nice thoughts when compared with his dreams, his visions, his nightmares. Her death on his hands.

_... What if Palpatine happened to her?_

His dreams haunt him.

Palaptine knows all about them. Him. Padme. The baby. If Palpatine knew, then he could - No. What’s done is done.

The Council taking charge is easier to accept than his own fragmented thoughts.

“It’s true. It’s all true,” Anakin tells them.

Of course they take charge, take initiative to go after the Chancellor, but still Anakin’s heart drops into his stomach, down to his feet at the words, as they discuss how to begin. At the way they believe him, and yet not. He was condemning the man who understood him most in the Galaxy. 

_Have you ever considered that we may be on the wrong side?_ Padme’s voice, always a comfort, came sharply to him.

The only thing he knew was that he knew nothing.

One betrayal for another. Palpatine’s lies beget Anakin’s betrayal of the man. He can’t think about anything else.

Shakily he nods along. 

“He’s in his office right now. We can catch him –”

Windu’s hand came down on his shoulder. Made Anakin jump. When had he gotten so close?

“Us. Not you.”

Anakin stops talking, his words stumbling to an abrupt stop. 

“But I –“

“You’re too close to this, Skywalker. Too close to him,”

 _Of course I’m close!_ He wants to yell. 

This is his friend. This is his mentor. This is... this is Palpatine. His anger sparks, but he can feel nothing but kindness, projecting from Windu. It’s infuriating as much as it is a relief. How can it not be? To know you don’t have to pull the trigger? 

_Out of all the days, of all of the lifetimes to be kind to him,_ Anakin thinks unkindly, _now is when Windu decided to treat him as an equal?_

He says none of that, though he is sure it shows on his face. Even as he hides it. 

“Listen, Masters, I have to –”

Windu shook his head. 

“He told you, Skywalker, what he was. He opened up to you. Search your feelings, Skywalker, you know that he wants this from you.”

He does. Palpatine was never transparent about his... monopolization of Anakin’s time. Younger Anakin needed it like water. Teenage Anakin had thrived upon it. Now, as an adult, Anakin couldn’t help but wonder if he could ever live without it.

Anakin slumps. He can’t stop himself. He says no more, because what words are left?

He is betrayed and betrays in turn.

“Stay here, Anakin,” Windu tells him, firmly, a command. 

_He can’t. He has to go with them -_

“Please.”

The ‘please’ stays his feet. The ‘please’ stops him from moving. The ‘please’ halts him, and he lets them go.

* * *

Alone at last, Anakin’s mind is not quiet. It runs away with him in all kinds of directions. 

Palpatine is the Sith Lord. 

The Council Master’s are going to arrest him. Right now. Padme is safe for now... but doomed otherwise. His visions, his dreams, the same kind of nightmares that once shared his Mother’s fate flash behind his eyes, showing Padme’s fate.

And that was it, wasn’t it? The whole crux of the matter.

Palaptine had power the Jedi couldn’t even imagine. The power to keep someone alive, from the brink of death. The conversation was still fresh in his mind, enticing. Anakin could hardly believe it. Palpatine told stories, and that’s all they were. Stories.

Right?

He leans his head back.

But all stories had some kernel of truth within them. Palaptine has told him many stories. Each story of his had a point. With Darth Plagueis the Wise... was it the conquering life? Conquering death? Was it just a story of a Sith, who’s practices he could learn? Was it all lies? Was it simply a proverb to warn that no matter if you save someone, there is always a required sacrifice?

 _Kriffing hell._ Anakin is used to being a sacrifice. To be one for Padme was no hardship. Gladly, so gladly that he knew the Jedi would disapprove, he would throw himself on his sword for her.

A world without Padme isn’t a world he wished to see thrive. 

And yet, he’s allowing Palpatine to be arrested right now. He’s allowing his Jedi upbringing, his Jedi ‘brainwashing’ as Palpatine calls it, his Jedi life taking over in place of anything else. Allowing his one chance to slip farther and farther away.  
  
 _Chance for what?_ He has to ask himself, seriously, frowning at the intrusive thought. _A chance to save Padme? A chance to leave this life behind? A chance to end this war? A chance to be better than this simple, humble life?_

Fantasy and fairy-tale both, yet Anakin **wants** it. Even knowing he’s being strung along, even knowing the Sith lie and lie and lie, it means nothing to that little part of Anakin Skywalker that wants more. All their conversations, all their talks, Palpatine knows exactly what to say to keep him interested, to keep him in his grasp. To hold something over Anakin.

That’s it. That’s what it is.  
  
Power. Those who have it are afraid to lose it, wise words from the traitor himself.

It’s that power that makes Anakin realize he has to let the Council go by themselves. The longer he sits, awaiting news, the more he realizes just how much he can’t do by himself.

Scoffing at himself, he actually shook his head.

Him. Anakin Skywalker. Waiting. _What was the world coming to?_

Then the smile slips from his lips and he closes his eyes tight, his flesh and metal hands dragging through his hair against the sudden flash of memories, of memorized dreams. Padme screaming behind his eyes, her voice taunt and high and pained and - 

He gets up and storms to the window. He clenches his fist over and over again. The rhythm and pressure soothing. Hydraulics hissing. Machines didn’t lie, and it told him he was alive, in this moment. 

It isn’t enough.  
  
He opens his eyes, to see the world. Ground himself in the reality that is staring at him.

It is a beautiful day on Coruscant, though Anakin has long since been unable, or perhaps unwilling, to see physical things as such. His flesh hand touches the transparisteel, pulling up the weather outside on the display. Brisk, windy this high up, but nothing to the cold of space.

Anakin’s fingers dig in, metal scratching the thick clear transparisteel, and he feels that rage take hold all over again as he looks down at the bustling city. A city ignorant of the war. The ships and transports flitting below, going about their lives, as if nothing had changed. As if they were unaffected by the war, by the Jedi’s efforts.

By Anakin’s sacrifices.

**_They don't trust you, Anakin._ **

Except that was a lie. Anakin knows it is a lie. Of course the Council trusts him. 

They just don’t like that they were forced to trust him. 

It would be better to say Anakin didn’t trust them.

How could he? Why would he? When had he ever been given leave to trust them?

When had the Council ever earned his trust? He could count on one hand the number of times the Council agreed with his course of actions, his plans. He argued as much as, if not more, than Obi-Wan and yet they took exactly none of his arguments to heart.

It’s like hitting his head over and over and over against a wall.

**_They don't trust you, Anakin._ **

“Shut up." He demands of his own mind, and, like the coward he is, he twists back around to start pacing.

He looks at the chrono, and notices that only ten minutes have passed. It already felt like hours, but Anakin is used to that. To the never ending waiting. The twitching of his muscles, of his need to move, to do something, but being unable to. He was a menace during hyperspace travel before a conflict, and he knew that if there had been anyone to see him he could say it would be exactly the same. That same energy. Same restlessness. 

Same sacrifice.

**_Stay here, Anakin._ **

_What right did they have to demand stillness of him?_

He can feel the roaring anger, like a dragon beneath his skin, and he looks to the door.

Seeing your own future isn’t something that happens. Anakin knows this from lesson after lesson after lecture. Seers the Jedi are not. They can see some futures, bits and pieces, but it’s never the whole picture. Often it is a self fulfilling prophecy. To follow a vision, to ignore a vision, both are equally as likely to lead to ruin.

Or so he’s been told. 

Yet he thinks he can see his future now.

He knows that if he starts, he won’t stop. He knows he is going to start walking. He is going to leave. He is going to go and help the Council, hope that he is not too late, that he can entreat Palpatine to teach him. Hope that the Council is doing something wrong, something that he can stop, something that he can ensure Palpatine’s freedom with.

Clarity sucks. 

**_Please._ **

Make a choice, he tells himself, as his feet feel like they want to run.

And yet, he doesn’t step forward. 

Long seconds come and go between his decision to stay and his decision to go.

In the end, he knows it is too late. He convinces himself it is too late. If he left now, Palpatine would already be arrested. It is too late. He must stay.

He returns to Obi-Wan’s chair and flops, trying to breathe through the anxiety beating through his chest.

It is too late.

* * *

His first thought after Palpatine is Padme.

 _Should he warn her?_ His head leans heavily against the back of the chair, staring at the beautiful designs on the ceiling. _Would she be bothered if he called her? Where is she?_ He doesn’t know her schedule by heart, often because he is not on the planet and it is a hard schedule to follow with the changing of the weeks.

Probably in a meeting, he thinks hysterically. A meeting. The Chancellor is the Sith Lord and the Senate is still piddling around. It’s as hilarious as it is heart wrenching. The very reason for this war and they’d all sat and had tea with him at least once in their lives.

She does not answer. A meeting. Busy. He doesn’t know, he just knows he can’t stay silent when the last beep rings.

“Padme," he leaves a message. It is all he has. He’s not sure what to say and so he wavers as he speaks. 

_What do you say to a loved one in the middle of a conflict of unknown proportions?_

“Things are happening, love. Please be careful. The Chancellor is..." he took a breath, shaky. What was safe to say over comm? What would he legally be forced to keep under wraps until trial? What would she believe? “He isn’t who we thought he was. Nothing is. Please.”

His hands together, cradling the comm, and pressing it to his forehead he pleads.

“Please call me back when you can.”

Her voice doesn’t call out to him from the comm. She doesn’t call back. 

* * *

Silence is his friend as he waits.

He’s never been good friends with silence or waiting. Any Jedi who has ever met him knows that. The war had sharpened his impatience into action that equally saved and destroyed lives. He had learned at the knee of war and experienced how seconds were the difference between life and death. With every second that passes he finds his resolve strengthening. To stay. To wait. To... listen?

He breaths out a rough breath, closing his eyes, trying to settle himself as he never could before. Meditation. Finding himself. He reaches for the eddies and the flow of the Force, letting himself sink in. It’s a bit of an oxymoron, because the Force is in all things, and he feels it all the time, he can feel it right now.

This is more like... special attention being paid. A conversation without end.

The Force, as it has been since the beginning of the war and as it shall remain for the foreseeable future, is all muddled. Not like mud, because he can still see, he can still feel, but it’s all the more useless and slow than it ever has been before. It doesn’t speak to him, it keeps its secrets well hidden, but he can make sense of much of it.

He opens his eyes, looking at the communication display on the floor, waiting for it to activate. Closes them again. 

One minute. Five minutes. He tap-tap-tap’s his fingers and toes, desperate for motion, but keeps his eyes closed.

Nothing happens. No sign. No signal. The Force is action, and he can feel something is happening, but that’s not a surprise. Palaptine, a Sith Lord, is being arrested at this very moment. If ever there is a moment for balance to come, it is now. 

The prophecy of the Chosen one rings in his ears.

He feels no need to leave the room, now that he is certain of staying. There are precious few Jedi he would search out on his own. All of them are not on the planet at this moment. This chamber is as close to any other room in the temple.

How sad is that, that he’s never been attached to these places, that he could simply think nothing of it?

He waits ten more minutes before getting up and pacing, going towards the window. Quick to face towards where Padme’s apartment is. Facing it, he can feel her bright light, her soothing presence. He presses his flesh hand against the glass, breathing deeply, trying to reach out for that small bond he has with her. It is negligent compared with his bonds with the Jedi, but everything.

Small, but infinitely precious.

He feels her. Feels the baby inside her. She is worried. Always, she worries. Not for herself though, no, but for the Republic, for the Galaxy, for their child. She is too kind hearted for this world. Which is why she, out of every light in the world, deserves to live. Not him. His fingers twitch to call her again, but he stills himself. She got his message, or she would, and then she would return his call.

Her worry infects him, but he can’t move. He can’t. He has to stay put. 

At first, he knows it was his choice, but the longer he stays the more he knows it’s less of a choice and more of an action he can’t take back. Big things are happening. He is helpless to stop it.

Like usual.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin wait. Then like all things happen, everything goes so fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at end.

Half an hour. He manages half an hour, and then gets up on his feet with a huff. 

Half an hour is plenty of time to arrest a Sith Lord, he thinks. Not that he hasn’t grown worried with the lack of information. And it’s Palpatine... the man is probably strong, hidden as he is in the Force, but he can’t be strong enough to take down five Jedi Masters. He’s been hiding, after all, while a good strategy is such a cowardly thing to do. 

Such a Sith thing to do.

He thinks it’s a trick of his mind, at first. Maybe the light hitting parts of the city differently.

Except, the feeling that comes at him is inside him.

The Force sizzles around him. Popping sounds. Like popcorn. He feels sad, suddenly, too. Oh so sad. A cry for something echoing in his soul. Hand against his sternum, frowning, he searches the Force to try and understand this new melancholy that has overtaken him. The last time he had felt this, was at times of great loss, felt even across distances. His mother’s death, for instance. When thousands of souls had cried out when worlds were decimated in attacks by hundreds of thousands of droids. 

_Kriff. Was Palpatine dead?_

Of all conclusions, of all eventualities, he never thought the man would die.

The holovideo equipment chimes as he looks out over the vast horizon, the feeling in his chest put aside for the real, the physical. 

It startles him, but he is soon relieved. It is a Jedi Master’s singal. He quickly makes his way back over to Obi-Wan’s chair, plopping down and activating the video with a relieved but wane smile. If the Council has subdued Palpatine, then everything was fine. Subdued, he reminded, not killed. 

They wouldn’t have done that... would they?

The holo in front of him starts to form.

“It’s about time-" he greets, before the blob can fully actualize, cutting himself off as he stares uncomprehendingly at the disfigured visage of the Chancellor. His face looked like it had bubbled up, overflowed, and then cooled like lava. He looked decades older than he had ever looked before and he was never a young man.

Anakin had just seen him an hour ago. 

“Anakin, dear boy, I know I told you to do it, but sending the Jedi after me?” 

The blue doesn’t disguise anything. 

In fact, it makes it worse. Makes the Darkness inside show so clearly on the outside. 

“That was a very naughty thing to do.”

He chuckles. The sound was more of a cackle. Anakin can’t comprehend, at first, but he doesn’t need to.

“Where is the Council?” Anakin demands in a whisper. 

“Does it matter?” Palpatine dismisses the very thought. “They have been taken care of. They tried to kill me, Anakin, and I only defended myself.” 

Anakin stares , not realizing that was an option. The Council... failing? Kriff.

Palaptine had said he knew the Dark Side, that he was powerful, but it hadn’t stuck. He had played his role, well, and he had seemed so harmless, so unassuming. He is a Sith Lord and still in Anakin's arrogance, he had still thought the Jedi above it all.

How wrong Anakin had been. How wrong they all were.

Yet, if he is that wrong about Palpatine, then he could save Padme... Anakin couldn’t help the thought.

Yet, the man had just killed half the Council.

He is powerful. He had told Anakin he was powerful. He had just displayed that he was powerful.

He could save Padme.

“Now, we can begin.”

Anakin blinks out of his scattered thoughts. Begin? Begin what? 

“What do you mean?”

Palpatine smiles a horrible smile. This far away, Anakin realizes just how being in Palpatine’s presence had affected him. How blind he had been. How he still is blind, because the pull to go back, to find Palapatine, to demand the answers of life and death was strong. Not dominant, but strong. Distance was the only thing that saved him. 

Distance wouldn’t last forever.

“To begin our new world order, of course,”

Anakin freezes.

After months of clouded thoughts, he feels clear-headed for the first time in months.

_No._

He flips the switch to end the transmission on his side. He could feel it. Tendrils of want and need. Right beside the anger and fear and all the emotions Yoda had preached would send him straight to the Dark Side.

And they were ... He thinks, with closed, pained eyes. They were sending him straight into the arms of the Dark Side.

Anger. Fear. Hate. The whole gamut. He feels them in spades. When he had killed in his Mother’s name. When he had killed Dooku. It crept along his skin, inside his veins, insidiously, because how could he have known? It started small, it grew until it was all he knew. One choice beget another and another, until he was standing on the edge of a cliff and wondering how he had gotten there.

_To jump? To turn back? What was the right choice?_

Obi-Wan had smiled at him, told him how proud he was, and all the while Anakin had been in turmoil over how easy it was to kill Dooku, how remorseless he was over the action he had committed at the behest of the Chancellor.

The war had gone on so long... he wasn’t sure how not to feel these things.

Shaking, he gets up from his seat and paces. Palpatine wants to rule the galaxy... by himself and with Anakin by his side. That is not an altogether unpleasant idea. He’s told Padme about it often enough. One ruler, one galaxy, one banner, all united. Peace realized at last. He knows they can do much together. 

And yet...

And yet there is a reason he went to the Council. There is a reason he has fought against this seemingly never ending direction of his life. There is a reason he had stayed behind.

He is a Jedi.

Steeling himself, he begins the process of sending out a signal to all the Jedi currently in communication with the Temple.

It’s all he can do from here.

* * *

The lines are open. Communication is open.

It’s Anakin who is having trouble finding words.

Thousands of battles, hundreds of droids destroyed under his commands, foolish and foolhardy plans aplenty: Anakin never lacked for things to say, for words to quip. He’s drawing a blank as he stares at the button, primed to call out on every Jedi frequency. Caressing the button and staring down at his finger, he tries to think through what he should broadcast.

_Calling all Jedi, don’t trust the Chancellor! He’s a Sith Lord!_

That seems like a good place to start, but it also could incite panic. Even among the Jedi there is more fear and weariness than the general populace.

_The Chancellor is a Sith Lord._

That could work. It was short, but to the point. It didn’t need any more to it.

_Don’t come back to the temple._

Anakin startles at himself, frowning as he tries to come up with a reason why that would come into his mind. Were they really in that much danger? The Chancellor was one person... and they had the Clones. Palpatine was not the Senate or the Republic. 

He was only one man.

That thought calmed Anakin.

Taking a deep breath, he knows he just has to begin. The words will come or they will not. It feels wrong and exhilarating being the one speaking to the Jedi, to be the one making his mark. Will people listen if it’s him? Will they understand that he is all that is left to make this statement? Will they understand if the message is spoken by him, a Council member but not a Master?

“Jedi." He begins, pressing the button. “Hailing all Jedi. This is an important announcement. You must –”

Then the equipment chokes off. 

A loud sizzling. The first inkling that something is wrong. Anakin’s heart sinks into his chest. 

“No!”

He immediately drops to his knees, yanking off the casing, and digging into the wiring. He searches and searches for the problem, heart sinking into his chest as he realizes: There is nothing wrong. Not on his end. Not that he can see, except some wiring that should be replaced soon. 

It should not have cut him off.

His comm crackles alive. The second inkling of something wrong skitters across his mind, on playful feet, a warning and a sharp note for attention both. It makes him want to leap to his feet, to run and run for cover.

One of the Clones come on. 

“Execute Order 66,” The clone speaks with such authority, Anakin thinks he’s in the wrong for not knowing what said Order is all about. Order 66? He thinks, cocking his head. That’s not one in his repertoire. They have no Order 66. “Extermination with extreme prejudice.”

_Whoa. Wait. What?_

Anakin struggled to his feet, stooping down to pick up his comm unit. 

“Commander, this is General Skywalker, what is Order 66?”

There is no response.

He repeats.

“Commander, this is General Skywalker. I repeat: What is Order 66?”

Anakin can hardly process what he just heard. An Order has been issued. What kind of order? Not from him, not from any General, but from... somewhere else? The Kaminoans? Who else could command the Clones?

It’s with a sinking stomach that he realizes the ultimate authority in the Republic is the Chancellor. 

_Could he... could he have given them an Order?_

No. It’s ridiculous. 

_... Wasn’t it?_

He tried to think on how he might be overreacting. How they could be under attack. He tries to imagine the Separatists above their airspace, again, for the second time in so many weeks and thinks it’s preposterous. He had just looked out the window, he had seen nothing in the sky, but... it was not out of character.

The universe is conspiring against him. Made all the worse because Obi-Wan’s words came to him then:

_Once is a coincidence. Twice is a pattern. Three times means we’re fucked._

He breaths and counts off what he knows.

The Chancellor is a Sith Lord. The Council is dead. The Clones have an Order he knows nothing about.

They were fucked. They just didn’t know how badly. Communication was cut off, and he couldn’t warn them. He couldn’t warn anybody. He was useless.

Anakin closed his eyes. Reaching for the Force, trying to understand what was going on.

It was a mistake. A huge mistake, because at that moment, as he opens himself up to the Force - the Force opens right back up to him.

The world stills. 

The hair on his neck and arms stands and Anakin finds himself holding his breath, tense from head to toe. The Force is an open maw of _something_. Something is happening. Something has gone wrong. Something has - 

He falls to the floor, his knees not holding him up any longer. 

There is a cry in the force. It is quiet, but it is getting louder, gaining momentum, like a wave. 

Anakin doesn’t understand. Not at first, what he is feeling. The pain of death a hundred fold. Tripling, never ending. He is brought under the waves. It is so intense. So absolute he can not understand it. Not at first. His breath catches, his lunges cry for air, and the world screams.

Hundreds of Jedi, all across the stars, young and old: are exterminated. 

_“No.”_

They die one by one, their final cries echoing into the force.

“No no no no,”

The Jedi die on their knees, betrayed by the ones they trusted most.

“No, please, no," he begs, feeling the Force. Feeling what has happened to it.

It’s a curious feeling. Horrifying and deeply unsettling. It sinks into his bones with a knowledge that strips all courage from his body. He has no rage. No irritation. Only a dull recognition of shock. It’s the worst feeling he’s ever felt. Like brittle knives and boiled lava, it trickles into the cracks that have appeared after so much time at war. He’s never been a whole person, he knows this, as a slave and then as a free Jedi, but this shatters him into pieces. His breath catches in his chest, ever frozen. He doesn’t know if he will ever remember how to be alive again.

His comm is still alive. Still squeaking out orders, coordinates, and tactical information.

“Move forward.”

“Charges set.”

“Three, two, one,”

An explosion. It shakes the temple.

At first, he thinks it’s about defending against this travesty.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize the information, tactical as it is, is so familiar to him it aches. He can understand the byplay being spoken through the right channels better than he could tune a droid. He learns that it’s about bringing it down on the temple, when the Clones order themselves to infiltrate.

He doesn’t think. He just does. 

Shooting to his feet, he slammed his palm into the palm reader on Master Obi-Wan’s chair. Since he’s on the council, he has access to what the Council knows. Before that knowledge had been an easy pill to swallow - but now it sits ladened in his throat like a dagger.

The Chancellor had given him that power.

He’s the only one here to start the process. The Jedi Temple is defenseless unless ordered to not be. Every Jedi can request the Temple to protect them, but the big artillery were hidden behind such permissions for the sake of all involved. The Senate had demanded it. The Council had acquiesced.

Anakin never hated both more than he did now.

It’s the worst kind of shame and horror that infects him as ‘ACCESS DENIED: TEMPLE LOCKED’ flashes on his screen. 

Oh fucking sith hells and damnation, he thinks, as he remembers that Mace Windu had locked it when he had left, or one of the others, or even Palpatine, some way. Somehow. All the available Council members had gone to arrest the Chancellor, which left Anakin watching in horror as that message scrolled, endlessly. A taunt.

With it, hundreds more Jedi disappear into the Force.

 _Think think think,_ Anakin demanded of himself, furious and shaky. So much death had him absolutely off keel, unable to keep his fingers from shaking right off the button, off the chair arm. He had to do something!

He can’t get the big guns going, but he can at the very least protect the Jedi in the aftermath.

Every Jedi Padawan learns splicing, learns hacking. Every single youngling also knows the consequences of fucking with the internal wiring and systems of the Temple. Anakin Skywalker knows this better than most, because he’s been grounded for a full year. His attempts to upgrade the system had not been well received when he had been younger: not by the Jedi nor the system. Instead he had ended up locking them all out.

He was under orders never to do something that stupid again.

After such a thing, Anakin had programmed in a back door of sorts. Just to the communication array and the droids. It’s nothing too special.

It’s all he has now.

His fingers fly as he knows this is the best use of his time. If the Jedi are being attacked... if the Clones have really turned against him, then he has no choice. This is the best thing he can do. This is the only thing he can do.

He flinches when he feels more souls cry out.

One final keystroke. One final command. It’s done.

Getting up off his jelly-kneed legs, he freezes as he hears the sound of... stomping.

He is hundreds of kliks above land and hundreds of feet above the temple’s ground floor. Yet he hears stomping.

He looked out the window then, looked down at the entrance to the Temple. 

It was beautiful, long steps that were rarely walked in favor of ship travel. The sun was shining bright. It was a quiet day.

Which made it all the worse when the Clones in contingencies of hundreds, came clanking to their doorstep. 

Anakin can only watch in numb confusion, the haze of bafflement keeping him from truly getting what is happening.

They don’t stop. They don’t hesitate. Once inside, they find their targets. Once inside, they find cover. Once inside, they fire. More lights in the Force disappear with it, screams beginning, unrelenting, tearing through the air and the Force alike.

Hundreds more, gone.

“No!" he whispers to himself. “No, no no!”

Anakin watches in horror. The Temple only has the young and the old, a few guards left behind to train, and the wounded. They are defenseless. Why would they need to defend themselves? They had the Clones.

The Clones were supposed to be their defense! The Clones were supposed to be their allies!

What had gone wrong?

He collapses against the window as he stares down. These are not his troopers. They are not. The markings were wrong but it hardly mattered. These were Clones that were perpetrating this travesty. 

He can’t move. His horror is too deep. Who would he even fight against? The Clones? The ones he had fought side by side with for the Republic for so many years?

... These Clones? It hurt. It hurts him, deep inside. 

The comm unit he had discarded starts to beep again. This time a call. Anakin is breathing heavily, leaning his whole weight against the glass, unable to move, when a voice overrides his security to speak to him:

“I think you see now, Anakin, what the future truly holds.”

Then the nightmare began.

It never stopped.

* * *

“Palpatine,” Anakin whispers back, but it must be loud enough. It must be polite enough. 

“Did you really think hanging up on me was going to work, Anakin, my boy?”

Palpatine almost sounds pleased.

 _Yes,_ Anakin thinks desperately.

“No," he lies out loud. He hates how weak he sounds.

Palpatine laughs. It’s a grating kind of thing, full of all the darkness that had been haunting Anakin’s dreams. He had thought it wrong. For how could this be his beloved friend and confidant? How could this much darkness be hiding in such a person as the Chancellor?

Anakin can’t think through the pain, through the bleak darkness. 

“Call off the Clones." he demands, but it’s not very strong. 

Palpatine clearly thinks it’s amusing, as he laughs again. 

“Oh my boy, you don’t understand do you? You never could.”

No, he doesn’t, but it is becoming clearer and clearer. With each minute, he’s getting more of this puzzle.

“This was always your plan. The Clones are...”

“Mine. Always have been.”

Anakin shakes. Rage, rage mixing with grief. He wants so very badly to rip Palpatine’s spine from his back.

“And the endgame?”

“Come to me, and I’ll tell you.” Palpatine, even ugly and disfigured, made it seem like the best idea. “Come to me. Become my apprentice. All will be explained.”

And they were back to this. Anakin felt hopelessly caught. Trapped between two extremes. Death or life. He had held no illusions that if he went to Chancellor, his life would be spared. If he obeyed, he would be given a place of honor that the Chancellor was cultivating. If he stayed here, he was as good as dead. Like the rest of the Jedi.

Yet still, he hesitated.

He thinks of his wife then. What would Padme would do?

His wife is a strong woman. Countless planets owe their existence to her, countless lives she has saved, and each accomplishment she never asks for recognition or awards. She’s the first to take up a blaster for the weak, the first to step forward when somone, anyone, everyone is being oppressed, and the first on the front lines. Even pregnant, she cares not for herself but for her planet, for her galaxy, for the life within. Anakin, by comparison, is selfish.

It’s clear. It’s hard. 

_I’m sorry Padme._

“The Jedi are the true traitors of the Republic, Anakin. They came to kill me and - “ 

The Chancellor would not shut up and in that moment Anakin could see what Padme saw of the man. He was power-hungry and willing to use that power for his own goals. Hadn’t she said that: Those who have power, are afraid to lose it?

Never before had it been so true.

Palpatine isn’t afraid, but that was because he had already won.

“So come to me. Anakin. Become my Apprentice - “

It was now. The time for action is now. The time for choices was over. This was the only choice that mattered.

_I’m sorry Padme._

Anakin crushes the comm in his fist. It was abrupt and short sighted, but he couldn’t listen to Palpatine any longer. 

He is almost shocked at his abrupt action, but he can’t listen for any longer. Every word sinks into his chest, his heart, his soul, like tendrils linking him to that monster. They made him consider running to Palpatine. Made him want to become a traitor to everything he knew. Made him want to turn his back on the Jedi, so he may live. Live, so he may fight, but even he knows that he wouldn’t be on the right side.

Anakin leaves the room. Sure, for the first time in a long time, of how he was going to die.

He smiled at the thought and repeats to himself: _I’m sorry Padme._

* * *

At first, Anakin fights tooth and nail. Like a wild beast, like the Gods of War he’s heard stories of on so many planets. He is both vindicated and torn. He is anger and rage. 

He is the embodiment of a storm.

These troopers aren’t his. The 478th and 153rd contingencies belonged to the planet of Coruscant and the planet of Coruscant alone. They know no loyalty to any Jedi General, but that never stopped them from defending them. The Jedi and the Clones were as symbiotic as any two groups could be.

It makes the betrayal, the death that fogs the Force all the worse for it.

With every clone he kills, with every one he falls, he can imagine their faces. Their souls call out to him. He can see Nax, Zzeer, and Attie in the way they hold themselves. He halves one that reminds him of Dogma, defends against a blaster bolt from one with the soul of Hez. Their armor markings are foreign, but they are there. The unique lights, their unique attitudes plain to see.

They are people.

And he kills them.

For all the war had blackened the Jedi’s souls - he had killed so few, that these he slaughtered were a bloodbath like he had never seen. The Tuskens had hurt less, even as it had torn at his soul differently. Dooku had been the enemy while these Clones had only ever been allies.

He is afraid that he is feeding the Dark Side even now.

With each death, Clone or Jedi, he feels as if his limbs are being weighed down by an ever present sadness, an exhaustion. Every death hits him in his chest, crushes his heart and lungs in a vice grip, and makes him want to weep.

These were the Jedi’s men. These were **his** men.

“He’s over here!”

It doesn’t take him long, with horror, to note that they aren’t trying to kill him. Every blaster shot is deflected to the wall, and they don’t burn so much as sizzle. Non-kill shots. Blasters set to stun. 

He sees the dead bodies of his Jedi brethren and he knows they killed them.

_Why is he different?_

They don’t go for the kill shot with Anakin. They don’t go for lethal. They point their weapons at him, they shoot, but he can feel it’s different with him.

They don’t want to kill him.

Anakin realizes after he kills one group of Clones. He gets it. The knowledge is so simple, in the heat of battle, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Order 66 - kill the Jedi. Who had the ultimate authority of the Republic? Palpatine. And what did Palpatine want?

He set his mouth into a grim line.

Him.

* * *

It’s worse, after he realizes what the Clones want from him. He can see their hesitation. He can see them notching their blasters to a lower setting. Some lift their blasters, only to drop them when they notice it is him. He doesn’t give them the chance to protest, to greet him, to give words to the orders he knows they have in regards to him.

He kills them all regardless. Until he just... can’t. 

Standing over the bodies of Clones and Jedi alike, he sees no difference. He sees the destruction. He sees the death. Lying on the floor, scorched armor and bloodied robes, they are the same. He is too late to save the Jedi in this part of the Temple. He is just in time to kill the Clones.

There is a Clone in front of him, gasping for breath, holding his shoulder that is slowly bleeding - he is slowly bleeding out. Anakin knows it is only a matter of time before he is dead.

Part of him thinks **_good_ **, with gnashing teeth and a mournful howl; while the other can only feel numb and wrecked.

“Why, sir?” The clone asks, as if it is not obvious. It makes Anakin want to cry, tears already in the corner of his eyes. The Clone is so earnest, so confused, as if he doesn’t understand. As if the dead Jedi littering the hallway say nothing. “Why do you defend them? Why do - “

The lightsaber in his hand trembles as his soul keens, but he finishes off the man quickly. 

_What makes me different?_ He questions as he stares into the black visor of the one he just killed.

He sees Cody in it. He sees Rex. He sees them all. Every one of them.

His reflection staring back is no less a monster.

So much blood. So much destruction. His chest tightens all over again and he wants to scream and scream and never stop. But he can’t, because that would give his position away. He can’t, because that is the worst kind of weakness.

The next corridor, he hesitates.

He doesn’t destroy the next trooper, and they stare at him for a moment, before relaxing. Relief, he feels from them. Joy at seeing him. He can only feel nauseated from those positive emotions. 

“Sir,” The leader says. “It’s good to see you alive, Sir. These Jedi are like fucking rats jumping ship,”

It’s said with such disgust. With such obvious disdain. 

Ten hours ago, this very Clone had been laughing at a joke one of the younglings had told him.

“We’ve cleared the corridor behind us, but we’re on our way to the Creche - we could always use backup.”

The scream lodged in his throat escapes him then, the Force his ally as he swept his arm out. He knocks them all unconscious with a wave of his hand, their heads snapping back against the wall. All of them are breathing still, but unconscious, maybe on the brink of death. It is better. It is never going to be good, but it is better.

He kills no more troopers after that. 

He just... he can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boop Boop Order 66 and also Clone angst with Anakin killing clones.


	3. Chapter 3

Padme tells him stories from Naboo often. When they are eating, when they are in bed, whispering them on the balcony. She finds the time to tell him of her history, of her people’s history, because she wants to share everything she is with him. Anakin wished his own culture from Tatooine was something to share, but it wasn’t so he didn’t, he just listened to her. 

A common theme is a Lor’Kyum. Translated literally as an ‘ageless soft spot,’ A Downfall. Weakness. Flaw. 

Anakin knows his Lor’Kyum is people. 

He just wished that Palpatine didn't know that, too.

* * *

He is transparent. Attachments, the Jedi call it, but to Anakin it is just a part of him. Not all people make up his weakness. His list is short. Padme. Obi-Wan. Ahsoka... Palpatine. Everyone else had been held at arm’s length.

Loving the Jedi and their way of life has always been a burden, hard, but he finds it easier in the face of absolute destruction and adversary. His friend is destroying all he knows, all the galaxy knows, and he can’t stop anything.

It makes him reevaluate everything. 

He enters the cafeteria on light feet, lightsaber held in front of himself. The room smells of smoke and death, but Anakin only has eyes and heart for the feeling of Jedi, alive as they were, terrified as they were, trapped as they were. 

Tables are flipped in the middle of the room, a wall to defend against the Clones. They had succeeded for the past few waves, as the bodies of Clone troopers are piled up in front of the doors. Anakin walks over them, keeping his senses sharp as he enters the room.

Death. Despair. Commitment. Bloodlust. It is all spelled out plain as day. 

“Stop where you are!” Someone demands, and Anakin does. 

Freezing as he felt the Force scream about danger. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Who is it?”

“Anakin Skywalker,” he replies. 

There was a poignant relief in the Force then as heads bobbed up. Two, then five, then ten. A dozen more. He feels such relief seeing them alive. Alive Jedi. He had seen so much death it was heartening to see them all bruised and battered, but alive. 

“Knight Skywalker!” Came the relieved cry, as they beckon him closer. “Come! Quick! The Clones will be here any minute.”

Of course they would be. The Temple is infested. It was a minor miracle they had survived so far. The attack was a surprise. The betrayal so stringing and upsetting that any Jedi who had actually defended is an outlier. Who would think the danger the Force screamed of was your friend, after all? That the danger was the Clones, who were so loyal, the Republic at large had often called them Jedi puppy dogs.

“There is no time, we have to go.”

“Go?” One of the Elders asks, eyes sharp and lightsaber glowing. “Go where?”

“Anywhere.” Anakin commands. “Anywhere but here.”

“This is our home,” One protests.

Anakin snaps right back. “And the Clones were our protectors, but no more.”

There is a stillness then, before he feels an artificial forced calm. The Jedi were so very good at that.

“But no more." he repeats.

“What has happened, Knight Skywalker?”

“There is no time," he felt like he was losing himself and them. Now was not the time for words! “And even if there was I wouldn’t know where to start! The Clones are here to exterminate us. We must go. Now!”

Which is when the Clones came. Obviously.

* * *

The other Jedi have no qualms about killing the Clones and he doesn’t stop them. 

He can’t put his own morality on them any more than he can the Clones. His guilt clogs his lungs, but every Jedi must face their own choices and Anakin won’t try and stop them from defending themselves.

* * *

Three-quarters of them survive and understand that they must run. The Temple is no longer safe, is no longer their haven. They look at Anakin with suspicious and weary eyes, already so tired from the death and destruction they feel. It weighs them all down like a physical thing.

Anakin still has to warn them. 

He knows he has to find as many as he can, has to save as many as he can. He knows his fate is sealed,but he can take the time to warn these precious few. Elder O’Ori’Ori, a hulking but meek Herglic, holds his hand and he looks into her eyes and he sees her death. Never before has he been so connected. Her death is not soon, not now, but he knows she will not survive the next five years.

But she will survive enough.

“Impart what you can.”

“The Chancellor is a Sith Lord," he tells them, and they blink at him, shocked as only Jedi can be with placid understanding and horror. “The Republic is no longer our friend. There was an Order... When the Order was given, that’s when they started to kill us.”

Elder O’Ori’Ori bows her head. He follows her example. When their foreheads meet, he only feels the deep well of sadness of one who had lived far longer than he could know.

“Feel it, we all did, Knight Skywalker." she looks up into his eyes, touching his cheek. He thinks this might be a kindness he doesn’t deserve. “Run, we will. Survive, we will. But Skywalker,”

Her voice is a warning and he listens.

“You will never be able to run far enough.”

Anakin cracks a smile. In his heart of hearts, he already knows. 

After all, once he is done here, once he saves as many as he can, once the temple is empty as he can make it; he’s going to save his wife and then confront a certain Sith Lord. 

His death is all but assured.

* * *

The Creche is both the most secure and the most vulnerable location inside the Jedi Temple. Inside the very middle of the temple, it is well insulated from attacks, but the very purpose the creche is used for makes it incredibly fragile. Children, after all, can no more defend themselves than an ant could stop a boot. There was only one Master assigned to twenty children in a Clan, of all ages, save the babies. Babies just needed more.

Unfortunately for the Jedi, the Clones knew them. Knew the Temple. Knew the Jedi. The strike against the Temple was well planned without ever having to be planned. It was the knife in the back, the betrayal of the son, the failure to protect against treason. 

He already knows that so many of the Jedi had fallen back to defend it already, but that just made it all the worse when he actually arrived. Because the Jedi had gone to defend the children, but the Clones had known they would.

It is heartbreaking but no surprise that the creche was empty, with the Masters and younglings mostly either fleeing or dead. Mostly, Anakin noticed with despair as he looked at the little bodies, dead. Before this, Anakin didn’t come to the creche. There was no reason for him to. He didn’t want a Padawan, he didn’t want to see little perfect Jedi, training to be better than Anakin could ever claim. So young but already so strong in themselves.

When he steps into the corridor leading between rooms, he feels instant death. If he had thought the rest of the Temple was bad... this is ten times worse. Blood soaks into the walls and floor. Dead bodies of old and young alike, Jedi and Clone, litter the walkways. Anakin feels sick just looking at it all. His stomach has yet to actually settle at the first shot fired.

He knows that there will be precious few children left but he can no more stop himself than he can turn back.

The bodies are still warm. He missed it by minutes. Possibly longer.

Probably not. 

Clenching his teeth and fighting through the rage that settled over his heart like a sleeve, he follows the sounds of violence. The entire Temple echoes with blaster fire, in short staccato bursts, but he perks up when he hears much of it slow or stop altogether in front of him. 

It’s stupid luck on the Padawan, or Initiates, part as he enters into a room with dead Clones littering the walkways.

He hears the lightsaber power up to his right though, and he deftly blocks an uncoordinated attack. The wild swinging, the frantic energy - it is no adult.

“Hey! Stop! I’m a friend!" he tells the attacker, who he can’t get a good look at. It wasn’t like he knew all the younglings that well. He was never in the temple. Never visited the creche. 

The young boy backed off, frightened and terrified in the Force, but relieved.

“Master Skywalker!" he breathes in relief, before launching himself at Anakin’s chest.

He tenses, ready for another attack, only to be met with a hug.

“Omph!”

The youngling doesn’t let go, trembling, and Anakin feels like he did when he first comforted Ahsoka. How resistant to the idea of children, how resistant he had been to his own Padawan, but unable to keep the grief contained. The little one can’t be older than fourten, but he clings to Anakin like he is five.

He allows the hug to last a few more seconds, to see heads popping up all around him. Older Jedi and younglings alike. The initiate in his arms finally begins to subside on the shaking.

“Hey, hey," he assures, as best he can. “Come on, there is no time to waste.”

“The Clones are attacking,” The Creche Master Po says gravely, as she comes out of the side door, lightsaber unlit but ready in her hands. “All communications have been cut off. We all felt the disturbance in the Force. What is  **happening** , Master Skywalker?”

Dozens of eyes all looked at him, looked to him for answers. 

He knew more than most, but now was not the time to ask questions. Who knows how long they would have to escape?

“There is no time,” Anakin states, shaking his head. “We have to leave. Now. I’ll explain as best I can as we go, but...”

A pop. The Force keening. More deaths. The Clones must have found another group of Jedi. 

The children flinch in front of him.

“We have to go!" he shook. “Now!”

Master Po corralled them as best she could and once they were in some semblance of a group, he turned and ducked his head into the hallway. Checking right and left. Clear. 

“Radio silence," he turns back to them, whispering. 

He signed for them to follow. They followed as quickly as they could, all of them trying to be silent but obviously having some trouble. They were children. They knew only war games, never thinking the war would come to their own doorstep.

Anakin forces his senses to sharpen, to be aware as he leads them closer and closer to the underground.

“Why not the hangar bays?” One of the children asks, in a quiet whisper as he stops to look around a corner.

He knows he said no sound, radio silence, but he answers.

“There is no exit for us there.”

Somber silence meets his voice and he is quick to lead them further.

* * *

In half an hour, he finds no less than a hundred Jedi, a hundred children, and too many babies for him to count or carry. The babies are the hardest to move, but luckily he has help. The droids, all big enough to carry a child, come to him when he calls, carrying out the subroutine he had programmed into them years ago. He leads them all out, going first, allowing the Clones to see him and then to let their guard down, only for him to sweep them aside, into unconsciousness and maybe with probable concussions. 

He leads the Jedi to the basement, because the whole of Coruscant is their prison. The Clones in the sky are as much a danger as the Clones on the ground. No ship would be getting past their superior firepower and sheer numbers. So he led them to the underlayers of Coruscant; the sewers, the basements, the lower levels.

They cannot wait for more Jedi to arrive. He brings them in packs and he ushers them away. They want to stay, to fight, but that is foolishness. He tells them so. They listen. If they stay, the Clones will come. If the Clones come, this place will be found. 

No more Jedi will be able to leave through here.

Unhappily, they followed his orders, knowing that he was right.

Every Jedi Master and Elder touches his cheek as he leads them forward. 

Every Jedi thanks him.

Every Jedi looks into his eye and sees something that forces them to offer him the same advice:

“You can’t run forever.”

He, like them, can see more than he ever wanted.

For some he sees their deaths. Sooner than most, more awful than most. For some he only gets an inkling of their potential being snuffed out. The greatest tragedy is the children he is forced to meet head on and know they will not survive a week. He tells them none of it, he can’t get himself to put it into words, but he thinks they might know as they look at him. As they see his eyes tighten, his breath catch.

Master Non’ne, a Falleen woman of the softest green, looks at him, touches his cheek, and gives him a sad smile. He knows he will not see her again. He gets flashes of her death, not a quick thing, but a protective one. The children in her charge will live to see a galaxy the Jedi can’t protect.

And Anakin won’t see her again. Not in this life. He wants to cry for her, but now is not the time.

Tears are for after the battle is over.

“May the Force be with you, Knight Skywalker," she speaks, and he almost imagines her voice is like the wind, a memory.

He chokes up. “May the Force be with you, too, Master Non’ne.”

She lingers for a moment, before shuffling twelve of her original twenty younglings forward. Her grief is like a hole, a void, in the Force, but she does not let it stop her. Not even as she takes one of the babies from a clan of only toddlers and leads them forward.

They disappear into a duct, tall enough for her slender form, but with no way a Clone would follow. He hopes for them, he prays to the long forgotten gods of the desert for them, and then he turns away and goes hunting for more survivors. 

* * *

He thinks the final count of Jedi he has helped escape is only about two hundred. A paltry number, but all he has to offer in penance for his blindness.

As the hours increase, it gets tougher. Clones line every hallway, tromp down every place. There are so few rooms that are left unmolested, just as the Jedi within are left dead. Anakin can feel there are so few left, but he knows that there are some that are still there, still alive. 

So he continues.

* * *

He passes the staircase to the data crystals in the lower levels and draws to a stop.

Ducking in, he does what needs to be done with a smile that hides none of his fury.

* * *

He finds survivors the only way he has so far: trapped by Clones.

This time, he can’t stop his killing blows. Not because of some loss of morality, or the inability to keep a promise, but because this time he feels the young lives ahead of him being snuffed out one by one. No matter how much he does not want to kill them; he does. The Clones are stopping up a corridor and they still don’t turn to attack him, so it’s almost child’s play to take them out. He can feel the dying Jedi ahead of him, the children, and can’t stop himself. The Clone blood on his hands is worse than any droid he’s ever destroyed, but he can’t stop. The Jedi are dying in droves, every death like another hole in a sinking ship. 

Soon the Clones are dead by his hand and he manages to calm himself.

He steps into the room and notices ten dead already. 

Anger at himself, anger at Palpatine, anger at Order 66, just plain anger ignites his belly as he tries to find faces. He can’t. They are just children. One adult Jedi, newly felled and smoking, still smoldering. Still fresh. It’s sickening and it fills the room with the smell of death and decay and despair. 

He closes his eyes, mourning these dead, before he turns to go searching for the ever elusive next-Jedi-to-save. He thinks there must not be many, because the deaths have stopped twinging on his shields, stopped popping at him like blaster shots. At least, not as many as before.

The pain is just pain now.

“Master Skywalker?” 

Oh.

He freezes. Turns back around. There are little heads poking out of furniture, hidden away, but as they see him, they come out. Like wounded frightened puppies. They spill forth, and Anakin can only watch in a numb daze. It’s one more surprise, one more ripple in the puddle.

One little voice says, “Master Skywalker, what is happening?”

The dead adult with the freshest wound makes a lot of sense. He had not counted how many dead children had fallen around her, but now he could see it wasn’t all of them. The Knight’s dead eyes stared at the ceiling, a sacrifice for the children. She hadn’t known if she would survive, but perhaps she had felt that the children would if she just held out long enough.

And he had come.

* * *

There are six of them. All under the age of twelve, but older than six: a Tholothian, two Humans, an Ithorian, a Nautolan, and a Wookie. 

They stare at him with wide, hurt eyes, but ones that fill with wonder and hope as he steps closer, over the dead bodies of the Clones that had cornered them. Over the dead body of the Jedi who had defended them. They may look hopeful, but they are all shell shocked, all of the death soaking into them like blood in a sponge. Anakin hardly knows what will happen when they are wrung out.

“Master Skywalker,” the little female Tholothian speaks, voice soft, like she had been screaming as she popped up from behind a table. A Human girl joins her. The Wookiee is already coming towards him, with the Tholothian and Nautolan staying back.

He looks down at their dead guardian, seeing the truth laid bare. Their survival had been linked to hers and now she is dead. 

He closes his eyes to give himself strength. 

If Anakin had not come, they would have shared her fate.

Suddenly he’s responsible for them. 

Two futures come at him, the Force deciding now of all times to be so helpful. A vision and prophecy both. One with all of the children dead, lying on this same floor, and one with the children all alive, in a forest, in some city, with smiling faces. He is nowhere to be seen in these prophecies of his, but he knows that they hinge on him.

_ It all hinges on him.  _ He thinks, bitter and angry and oh so tired.

A divergence. A path. 

If he stays with them, they would live, they would flourish, and the Jedi would not lose them.

If he left - they would be dead.

Anakin feels the need to both run as far as he can and to shelter them under his robe, and spirit them away. 

_ I never asked for this, _ he thinks mournfully and a little spitefully towards the Force. He had stayed behind to help the Jedi escape! That was all. That was all he had stayed for. To help them escape. Not to become responsible for them.

He has things he must do.

Padme needs him. 

His unborn child needs him. 

He has to confront the Chancellor. He has to. He’s the only one left. 

The children look at him and Anakin reminds himself he has never been good at doing what is required of him.

_ I’m sorry Padme, _ he thinks.  _ I will be back. _

“Are you hurt?" he asks them all, checking them over. Visually they look fine, but Anakin knows better than most what could hide under the surface. All of them shake their heads, save the nautolan who is staring at his dead clan-mates. 

They have little shields. They had not needed them. Had not learned them. Shock suffices the entire area and Anakin knows, as he knows combat and conflict, that he needs to get them moving before they start thinking.

He hardly has time to think.

“Come quickly,” he tells them. 

There is no time to comfort them. No time to stop and check them over. The Clones he killed were only a few of many, and those many are gnashing their teeth close behind them. Like a horde of monsters, ready and willing to overwhelm. Shape shifters, body snatchers. Once friends, now enemies.

It makes all the blood spilled in the temple that much more vile.

They are Jedi younglings, and they follow on quick feet like ducklings, disobedience never once crossing their minds. They step over their dead clan mates, their dead clan master, and follow him. He feels the _ twinge  _ in the Force, of how much they are holding in tears. Their shock.

No one speaks, they just follow.

The Force is his only ally as he twists deftly through corridors, helps the children up into air ducts, climbs with them, behind them, and then in front of them to the hanger bay. He knows that to get to the basements, to the sewers, is certain death. The Force warns him away. The Clones are here. Knows, as he knows all things through the Force, that there is no safety there.

So he does as he has not before.

He heads for the hangar bay, knowing it was a long shot. Knowing what awaited him. 

If they don’t leave... if they don’t get off the planet...

Anakin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

One thing at a time. Secure the children’s safety. Then work something out to go back to Padme. Knowing Padme, he knows she can hold her own. These children can not.

It’s the only way he can keep himself from taking a ship and going to get her. If he stops, if he hesitates, then they all die. Not just him, the children. He is a realist, and as much as he wants to throw caution to the wind and run and never look back, he also knows that Palpatine is a Sith Lord in charge of an entire galaxy, with an army at his hands.

He stops in a crouch in the hallway stopping the kids behind him with a hand signal that fails, as one of them runs straight into him. 

“Sorry,” the little human girl squeaks. 

Anakin waves her off. 

“It’s okay, but we’ve got to be quiet.”

He peeks around the corner and notices what the Force had told him. There were two Clones standing guard at the entrance to the hangar. 

Kriff. Not bad odds, but any Clones are bad news. 

“How are we going to get past them?” 

Anakin flinches back, only to come up right face to face with the little Nautolan. “Don’t do that!" he hisses.

The youngling flinches and backs up right back up into the group of them. All of them huddling together. Frightened energy rising off them in waves.

Anakin sighes. Doesn’t apologize.

“We don’t have a lot of options...” Anakin told them. As he realizes they really did not.

“Pick the best one, then,” The Ithorian says.

Easier said than done.

It is hardly a trap. It is plain and in their face. Guards. The thing was, the Clones wouldn’t attack him. Would that go for Jedi children he was ferreting? 

He could always mind trick them... but they were Mandalorian bred. Strong. 

It wasn’t worth the risk.

“Stay here," he tells them, waving at them to stay put. And then giving them a pointed look to make them stay. 

“But - “

_ “Stay!” _

Then he walks around the corner, as though he hasn’t a care in the world.

Anakin walks with a swagger that has a certain arrogance to it. Clone 1 and Clone 2 raise their blasters, only to lower them a moment later as they realize who he is.

“General Skywalker!” One of them states. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Not good, but not the worst. It meant that Palpatine was speaking with them, had informed them of him, but obviously not negatively. Still waiting for him to realize he had nowhere to run.

“Well here I am,” Anakin opens his palms with a smile.

They chuckle good naturedly, as if the blood splattered on them is nothing.

“The Chancellor has been trying to hail you, sir.” Clone 2 disconnectes his external communications to hand it off. “Here, sir,”

Well if that wasn’t just great, Anakin thought dryly as he took the comm unit, before immediately smashing the two Clones’ heads together. The clang of the buckets was loud, but it did its job. The Clones both collapsed in a heap. Wasting no time, using the Force he dragged them back, finding the nearest door and shoving them in it. Ignoring the smell and feeling of death from within. 

“Come on," he called to the children in a whisper, his voice echoing. 

The pattering of tiny feet accompanies Anakin’s silence in the Force. Nobody is around, but that doesn’t mean that the hangar is clear. He pushes them to either side of the door, waiting for them to stand clear. 

“Stay,” he says, before opening the door.

And then somehow, the coast was clear, which just meant that somewhere else, others were suffering for their good fortune.

He grits his teeth.

“Alright. Coast Is clear, but it won’t stay that way for long.” he says. 

Anakin ushers them forward, and he closes the door behind him, locking it with his own special brand of hacking: a lightsaber through the locks and melting it shut. 

“Keep alive, soft feet, and tell me if you notice anything.”

The younglings are silent, solemnly focused on not dying. They are not soft on their feet, but they try.

None of them should have been focused on such a thing, but they were. 

They are so young.

With no small amount of relief, Anakin realizes that a few of the Temple shuttles were missing. Anakin didn’t know if those shuttles had made it out of the temple, but they are not here. Which meant there is hope. 

But there is also death.

He passes over many of the closer shuttles, because he knows they were in the process of being fixed. None of the ships in this hangar were new to him. He knows them all. Helped build them to spec. Damn near raised them from babies to what they are now. Looking towards the head mechanic’s office, he notices the light is on, but there is no movement. It’s easy to see the reason why. He mourns the man, but turns his focus to his task.

His ship is not present, which meant one Jedi had obviously found his superior craft to escape in. 

Not a bad idea.

But Obi-Wan’s craft is the second best. Knowing it like the back of his hand is an added benefit.

His fingers twitch as he ushers the children towards hangar bay 25K. “It’s the ship with the red. You can’t miss it. I’ll be right there,”

The kids freeze, apprehension and fear strong in the Force around them. They all look to the smallest of the girls. The Tholothian girl, who is more frozen than most, but she gathers herself soon enough. Rigidity in her stance as she nods at him.

“Hurry,” The girl states, firmly. 

He can’t help but see a resemblance to Ahsoka. 

“I will.”

The fear and apprehension in the Force spikes, but they all obey with minimal hesitation, the girl leading the pack of them. 

Obi-Wan would have loved each and every one of them. 

_ Would. Would love them. _ Anakin corrects himself. He is not dead. Out of everything they had been through, everything they have survived, this would not be the thing that kills his wayward Master. 

He found the datacrystal for Obi-Wan’s ship easily, hung up where it should be. It had the little wood carving from Anakin’s first I-Was-Found-By-The-Jedi anniversary. He hoped Obi-Wan was safe... that he had managed to get away, that he survived, but he also was practical. He knows Obi-Wan had been with his troops, alone out in the Galaxy hunting down General Grievous. 

There is nothing practical about believing that he survived.

He grabs the key and hesitates over the credit-output display. He knows that as soon as he touches it, it will lock down. There is also a good chance it was already locked down. It is a risk to attempt what he is about to attempt, but he knows he needs the funds.

They all need the funds. 

He weighs the risk against the time and the output.

He takes the risk.

Luckily, or rather unluckily, nobody had tried this same thing and he is able to drain one fund completely before an error message pops up. The credit chip has none of the actual weight of millions of credits, but it drops into his pocket with all the levity of the same.

These credits will keep them alive, he reminds himself.

He quickly jogs back towards the extremely-modified,  _ theta _ -class shuttle, the kind of ship that nobody would look at twice, but that has hidden pockets of gold. The younglings had opened the hatch and were already inside by the time Anakin made it back, much to Anakin’s relief. The ship is well stocked, as it always is, and a spare set of Obi-Wan’s armor rests in the corner, discarded. Along with a robe. 

Anakin’s heart hurts looking at it.

The Force is a whirling tornado of feelings and emotions. He yanks himself from his thoughts and quickly dives into the pilot’s seat, starting up all engines and getting the ship ready to go. She starts like a dream, primed and ready, refueled for the newest journey.

“Buckle up!" he commands the children and they all scurry to obey.

He holds his breath as the ship takes off, hovering in the air as he types in the code to open the hangar bay doors at the last second. He never hesitates, not once, as he darts out of the darkness, the safety of the hanger, into the wide open daylight ahead of him. The ship roars above the tops of the buildings, over the senate, over the byways. Civilian traffic parts as he commands, the codes still working for an emergency.

As he pilots, he can’t help but think that,  _ this is too easy. _

No one shoots at them. No one hails him. The shuttle is silent as he flies. He sees plenty of Republic armada ships, but none come towards him. The control towers hail him halfway towards the atmosphere, but he ignores it in favor of picking up speed. A dangerous kind of attempt, but the only one he has.

They break the atmosphere to the Controller telling them to ‘turn back please, you are not authorized to-” and Anakin had to blink in confused shock... 

Not a single shot had been fired towards him. 

Not a single person had come after him.

_ This is too easy.  _ He thinks once again, with the world weary acknowledgement of a man who had never had a day in his life go right.

He did not look a gift tonka in the mouth, of course. They weren’t out of dodge, even as Anakin began to prep for hyperspace. There were three Venator-class Star Destroyers that hung around the planet for planetary defense, but they all stayed oddly silent as he passed between two of them. He held his breath.

Silence.

The Clones let them leave, he realized before the hyperspace engine whined and they were gone.

The ship is dead silent as Anakin leans back. The adrenaline, the blood rushing in his ears, begins to subside and he shakes as he realizes with a numb heart-- he did it. He’s escaped with his life, with the children’s lives. 

With the excitement and adrenaline finally curbed, Anakin is left alone, bereft of any fight. 

A single, solitary moment of victory in a victoryless fight. 

The kids in the back are dead silent but he can feel that they are just as shocked as he is.

* * *

It’s not until later, as he sets the shuttle to auto-pilot with shaking hands and just wants a few seconds of rest, that he is swamped by younglings who are scared, who just saw their keepers die to protect them, who were out in the vastness of space for perhaps the first time in their lives and can’t decide whether it’s cool or terrifying. They pile on him, on a small chair that really doesn’t hold even him well, and they try to be stoic, and in control, but they end up crying snot into his hair and tunic, they end up in his lap little fists tight in his robes. They end up alive, but hurting. Alive but so very damaged.

Anakin can do nothing but be there for them. They shock him, with how open and desperate they are.

Saying no is like pulling out his own bones: impossible and painful; so he doesn’t even try.

He couldn’t save them all, but he’s going to protect these little ones the best he can. No matter what comes.

_ Oh Master, _ he laments, feeling an ache where all those Jedi used to be.  _ Please be alive. _

Then even more privately, even more sorry,  _ I’m sorry, Padme. _

Because in saving the children, he’s sure he’s managed to doom her.

But what was the life of a Jedi except sacrifice?

* * *

The children are all asleep and he is wide awake. He can’t shut his eyes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever shut his eyes again. He’s seen too much. He’s been shown too much. The world has changed too rapidly, he must keep up and the only way he knows how is by sheer force of will. If not for himself, then for the children.

He’s never had survivor’s guilt, not like this. He knows what it is, clinically and academically. Seen its impact. But he had thought he was above it. As a Jedi that was one thing he had managed to succeed at, getting attached to his Clones and then having to watch them die had disabused him of the notion he could save everyone. Over and over and over, seeing the same face, but watching different lights get snuffed out. It had taught him to try and see the numbers, never take their names, but allow them the same affordance as all the other people in the galaxy.

In the end, he was ineffective. Like the Council. 

If only he had been faster. If only he had left the Council Chambers. If only he had been quicker to respond to the attack by the Clones. If only if only if only. Yet he hadn’t. He was too slow. He was too obedient, for once in his life. He was too sorry and tired and alone.

“If onlys” run through his head like a never ending reel. 

He had tried calling Padme, but hyperspace-communication was notoriously unreliable. It wasn’t worth the risk to drop out simply to make a call. 

Not even for Padme.

He closes his eyes.

Especially for Padme.

Even far away, with the Force around him a muddled horrible mess, he knows she is alive. Perhaps panicked. Perhaps horrified at the events. Alive, though. For how long, he doesn’t know. She’s wily, cunning and courageous, with the ability to survive things that would have killed a lesser woman.

He hopes that Palpatine won’t see her for what she truly is. 

He hopes that Palpatine doesn’t see any of them for what they truly are, but especially not Padme.

Fear grips his heart when he thinks of Padme in Palpatine’s grasp. 

Yet he can’t do anything. The children are a heavy weight on him, holding him down physically and by responsibility both. Their snores in his ears, the twitches in their sleep, and even the way they drool on him is... stupidly endearing. The soft feeling of their Force presences coil around him in an never ending loop of love-worry-acceptance-faith. He’s never felt anything like it.

He looks at the map, at where they are in association with the planets around them.

Already they are so far away from the planet. Away from Palpatine. Away from Padme.

Safe, but Force at what cost?

One of the children took that moment to whimper. Loud enough, heart wrenchingly enough.

He looks down at the pile of children on his lap. The chair isn’t big, but he refuses to move and move them. The Wookiee is curled up at the bottom, which helped keep them all on his lap. The Humans and the Ithorian all curl up together with the Nautolan, with his head under Anakin’s chin. 

Padme would be doomed if he called and doomed if he didn’t. A classic Catch-22. The only difference was that he would get to hear her voice before she died, or before he died, or whichever option came first. A very attractive option either way.

He knew he wouldn’t call. 

He already was attached. He couldn’t risk their lives just because he felt like being selfish, and felt like warning his very capable wife of the danger that she would probably already assume needed to be weary of. 

He was soothed by knowing Padme would think he was making the right choice. Padme had a soft spot for children. Most people did. Anakin knows these children were just as strong as any adult, but that hardly meant a thing. He was growing a soft spot, just like anyone else.

In the end, he is only human. ****


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-Anakin POV chapter. Palpatine's speech + the kids trying to cope.

When the Chancellor of the Republic speaks, everyone is forced to listen. 

Perhaps not forced in the conventional sense, but most all holo-devices tune to important announcements without being commanded by their sentient overlords and are forced to play his speech. Being that the Republic was currently enmeshed in war, nobody overtly minded. Any information was good information, often it saved lives.

What a select portion of the Republic only found out after the fact: was that the speech was heavily edited. 

Most never found out. Most never would.

The Senate session had been called within hours of the Siege on the Jedi Temple. 

Chancellor Palpatine had called for them and the Senate had come together. Those on the planet came to their pods, most assuming the announcement was about the Jedi Temple, which everyone who had looked out their window could see was still smoking. Every single one of them assume it was an attack on the Temple, but no matter how bad the last attack had been, there had been Jedi representatives present. None of the Senators notice within the first hour, but they certainly notice as the Chancellor began to speak.

When Palpatine steps forward, there are audible gasps around the arena as everyone takes in his new, disfigured face. Even at a distance, not looking at the holo-recording being displayed in their personal pods for better looking, he is an ugly sight to behold.

“Citizens of the civilized galaxy, on this day we mark a transition,” Chancellor Palpatine begins. Voice weak and reedy, but loud and echoing due to the technology at hand. “For a thousand years, the Republic has stood as the crowning achievement of civilized beings. But alas, there were those who would set us against one another, and we took up arms to defend our way of life against the Separatists. In doing so, we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within.”

Dead silence greets that proclamation. Confusion rife throughout the floor.

“The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, have conspired to create the shadow of Separatism using one of their own as the enemy's leader.” 

He does not shout. He speaks passionately. The uproar at his words is... not well met. Within pods the senators and aides all speak in hushed whispers to each other. Surprised and aghast. With denial and heated agreement.

Everyone has received a packet in their inboxes. A document filled with all the Jedi’s crimes. Even as the Chancellor continues his speech, aides and senators alike are drawn to see for themselves the accusation at hand and the merit it had. 

As the Chancellor continues to talk, it soon becomes apparent to all present that the Jedi being outed as their enemy is not the only reason they are here.

No. For the Republic at hand, before their very eyes, morphed into the Empire.

* * *

The children watch as Master Anakin Skywalker, General Skywalker, the Hero with No Fear, one of the greatest Jedi of their generation, sleeps like the dead; all of them equally unsure how to proceed. 

_ “We shouldn’t wake him up.” _ Gungi howls, in a whisper, trying to dissuade his agemates from disturbing Skywalker.  _ “He probably used a lot of energy... saving us,” _

Silence, the kind none of them were used to, seems to pervade their bones and it kept getting... heavier.

They could feel the Force like an open wound. Agony, resting right under the surface. A hangnail of the soul. It had started with Joria, their age mate when she passed into the Force violently and without warning. Every death after feels like muted shock and horror, building and building like a scream that none of them are brave enough to give voice to. 

“We can take care of ourselves,” Zatt snaps, curled up in the only corner of the ship's rounded areas. 

It is the first time he has spoken since everything happened. 

_ “We have before, it’s true,” _ Gungi adds.  _ “But this is not like before.” _

Katooni has not taken her eyes off of Master Skywalker as she remembered his Padawan, the one who had taken them to Illum. The strong Togruta, who had protected them, who had allowed them to escape, who had allowed them their first chance at survival. Who had left the Order. 

_ Had she survived? Was she one of the faceless, nameless thousands who had fallen? _

“That goes without saying," she whispers. Understatement of the millennium. 

The alarm starts beeping then, the ship shifting out of hyperspace, the blue of the warp travel giving way to the blackness of space as they slowed. None of them know what planet they are headed to. It seems to be a densely forested planet, with vast oceans and landmass aplenty, and a fair amount of technology in orbit, too, but nothing militia. 

Merium sighs. 

“If nothing else, we should wake him to let him know we’ve arrived?” she says. 

The alarm beeps. Not very insistently, but enough that the children were all aware and listening to it with focus intent. Waiting for when it would awaken their savior. Unfortunately, it seemed like Master Skywalker was out like a light, head back, snoring like a chainsaw.

“We need to do something!” Petro whispers. “It’s been going off for almost ten minutes!”

Katooni shoves Petro forward. “Then do it.”

Petro’s face flushes. “Maybe I will!”

Master Skywalker twitches.

They all flinch back. Breath halted. Waiting. 

None of them have to do anything as Master Skywalker groans, twitching and rolling in his chair. It doesn’t take long after that for his eyes to flutter open, as he wakes. The children watch with bated breath as he lurches forward, head between his hands, groaning and scrubbing at his face. He looks... weak, fragile. At his wit’s end, as Master Siy-uri would have said.

They must have made some kind of noise because Skywalker freezes, before turning his face towards all of them.

Blinking, he stares at them, unseeing.

Katooni takes careful note of the adult, careful to watch him. He looks like he sees a ghost. Or a bunch of tiny ones, at least. He blinks again. Recognition lights his eyes and he relaxes. Only it looks more like a releasing of all his pent up emotions. And again he blinks, before closing his eyes tightly, as if battling a great pain. When he opens them, they are hard to read. Zatt flinches, unsure if that is a good thing or not. Skywalker notices it and takes another breath, before he moves with deliberate slowness, sliding out of the seat and landing in a meditative lotus on the floor.

“Hi," he greets them with the saddest grin Katooni had ever thought she had seen in her life. “Are any of you injured?”

He had asked that before.

They all shake their heads.

He nods.

“Are you hungry?”

They all nod, except for Byph, who had yet to speak and is still sitting across the small room, on one of the cabin bunks. He has a blanket, but he has not slept a wink. His exhaustion is like a weakening in the Force, like a spot of wear and worn. 

Skywalker doesn’t do more than glance at him, face falling as he notices the little Ithorian, before turning back to the rest of them. He takes a breath, then before her eyes he becomes something a little more stable.

“Then let’s see what we can scrounge up, shall we?”

All of them except Byph toddle after him, feeling like lost little ducklings. The ship is small and they’ve explored only the pilot’s cockpit and the main cabin while the Master had slept. But now they enter the storage unit, flinching, as if expecting to see Clones waiting for them.

It is such a visceral fear that Merium holds onto Master Skywalker's robe as they move, feeling young and foolish and not like the younglings-almost-Initiates they were, on the cusp of initiation. 

Skywalker kindly allowed it. He was just so... kind.

Zatt imagines Master Skywalker as a Creche Master. Strong as he is, wise as he is; he imagines that it would suit him. He thinks he would probably have done an admirable job, if not for the war. If not for the violence and strife that had overtaken the galaxy. He is not like many of the other Masters, who are so cold in the Force as if to be stone. He is warm. Like a blazing fire.

Perhaps, that too, Zatt thinks, would have done him well as a Creche Master.

Once they are all settled in with ration bars from one of the boxes in the storage compartment, Anakin approaches byph. Their clan-mate looks at him, weary, but doesn’t move. In the Force, the Kaadu Clan, or what was left, could feel how despairing he was. When Master Skywalker sits next to him, offering the ration bar, the Ithorian just stares blankly.

Master Skywalker sighs, deeply. Yet he doesn’t press.

Setting aside the bar, Skywalker looks awkward. Boyish. Like Petro. Unsure. He thinks for a moment, the furrow of brow and stern look of a person at their edge, before he seemed to come up with an idea. 

“None of it was your fault, you know," he tells byph.

It is loud enough for all of them to hear, but quiet, so as not to spook them. Like when their Guardian Siy-uri tried soothing a frightened, cornered critter-cat. Respectfully keeping distance, but offering up a gift of peace.

Turning to the boy, Master Skywalker opens his arms to Byph, wide and welcoming.

“It’s okay to feel it. To feel sad. To feel lost. To feel... to mourn. We have lost much today.”

At first, Byph just stares at him, before a sob that had been caught up in his throat escapes. A tortured sound.

Master Skywalker’s lap is full of a crying, sobbing child so quickly, he almost doesn’t catch him. But he does. And he holds on tight. Petting the back of his head as the little body clung to his. He feels wrecked in the Force. They both do.

“I’m sorry,” Byph says, over and over and over again. 

_ We’re sorry. _

The rest of the children can’t take it, and if they were honest, they need comfort just as badly. The bunk was small, but none of them minded as they squeeze in. On his lap, in a hug, arms wide and pressing their faces into either Skywalker’s robes or into each other’s. Their sadness soaks into the Force, but Anakin only opens his arms wider, taking in two more children, Gungi and Merium, with his head bowed.

They’re a sorry bunch.

“Master Skywalker... What happened?” Merium asks, shaking. 

He sighs. Doesn’t answer right away, but he does answer. 

“We were betrayed.”

“But... Why?”

It made no sense. None of it did. 

The Clones were their friends! Their allies! All of the younglings knew that. Knew it because when the Clones were near, all they could feel was fondness, was love, was a fierce protectiveness that rivaled their own creche Master’s. The Clones had never been a danger, a problem.

Which, of course, left them with only one reason.

“It was our fault, wasn’t it? The Jedi did something?”

Skywalker startles visibly, protesting immediately. “No, no it wasn’t! None of it was.”

“Then why?”

Master Skywalker sighs, deep, and they feel it in their bones. He doesn’t speak abruptly. He waits. Turns over his words. Adults did that, right? Took the time to consider their words. Petro had been scolded more than once for not thinking before he spoke. They all had.

“I don’t know." he says after a while, his voice faint, before it grew stronger as he added, “All I know is that none of it was your fault. None of it. I was there and I couldn’t have stopped it. And I’m a fully trained Jedi General.”

Petro curls closer. “But we ran away. We should have fought. We’re supposed to be Jedi, not no good cowards.”

“It was a tactical retreat,” Master Skywalker replies. 

He hugs them closer. 

“Sometimes, you have to lose one battle to win the war, right?”

None of the children thought too much of war. Even when they had to rescue Padawan Tano. And if this was one battle... where was the war?

_ “So many died...” _ Gungi howls. 

Skywalker does not deny it. 

“They did,” he says, carefully, ”But we can mourn them, as long as we don’t hold onto them. As long as we let them go.”

He isn’t denying or trying to lie to them. He’s just allowing them to process.

They sit in his arms. On the edge of a planet that was foreign as foreign to them as any other. The Force is melancholy around them, heavy and dark. They don’t know where they were going from here. The future is open wide, like the great mouth of some predator. It’s frightening.

Byph, for all his silence, is the one that speaks now.

“What do we do?”

Skywalker is quiet for a moment longer, before he takes a breath.

“Survive." he breathes. “Survive to fight another day. We aren’t the only Jedi left... but for now we have to act like it.”

Things aren't okay, but the children could feel that at least they weren’t suffering alone, and that Master Skywalker is here to protect them. To lead them. It could be worse. They didn’t know how, but they knew that they were lucky.

* * *

“... Also, I think it’s well past time. But. What are your names?”


	5. Chapter 5

The planet they are currently orbiting and getting ready to land on is named Chandrila, the home world to Padme’s friend Mon Mothma and the 6th planet from this solar system’s sun.

Anakin chose it because of how he had been choosing all of his actions lately: entirely by the Force.

As he gnaws on a ration bar, he mulls over all the good reasons to stay instead of re-enter hyperspace with the meager amount of fuel they have. For one thing, there are no clones here. Chandrila, for all its ‘importance’ to the Republic, had been kept largely out of the fighting between the Separatists and the Jedi. It isn’t a major holding point, It isn’t an agricultural world, and its largest import is talented pilots and journeymen. 

It also has a pretty wicked underground Pod Racing circuit.

Not that he was going to do any Pod Racing, but still, it was nice to know.

Anakin feels a presence creeping nearer. One of the children. He knows the presence, but not enough to put faces to names all that well yet.

“Uhm, Master Skywalker?” Katooni. That’s what this one is named. See? He can remember names.

“Yes?”

“Are we going to land any time soon?” 

Anakin chews on his mouthful thoughtfully. Strategically, they would have to, and that should be enough of a reason to land but Anakin doesn’t want to. He is becoming... paranoid if he is honest. 

The Clones had been their allies and they had betrayed them. Palpatine had been the one pulling all the strings behind the scenes and he had been as close to a father to Anakin. Those aren’t things he was going to so easily forget. He is attempting to trust in the Force, but it’s very hard to do with that kind of wound hanging around. 

“Yes,” he finally tells her, watching as she settles herself in the co-pilots seat. “We’re landing.”

She looks... reasonably doubtful, even as he tosses the wrapper behind him and begins decent protocols.

Still she buckles in.

* * *

The ship settles on solid ground and they all hold their breath as one. The woods are dark and deep around the clearing they had found, about a three hour hike to the nearest small settlement. Everything is silent, except the Force, which is always moving, ever changing, continually whispering.

All of them let out a sigh of relief as they realize the planet is... welcoming. 

That relief is soon squashed when he stops them from piling out of the too-small shuttle. Cramped as it is, he is surprised the kids want to leave the safety of the ship so soon. It’s only been twelve hours... if that. 

Force. Twelve hours. It’s nothing. Nothing at all in the grand scheme of things.

The Force is a maelstrom of thoughts and opinions the kids can’t entirely stomp out. Anger-worry-stress-tired-fear.

“Oh... Okay.” Zatt sighs, all of them settling back into their self-assigned places on the ship. 

None of them argue further as Anakin settles into the cockpit and tries to plan their next moves, occasionally trying to call someone -- anyone -- only to realize the comm network is... down.

That’s not good.

Not good at all.

* * *

It’s night outside soon enough. The children have long since eaten dinner and were all curled up on the lone bunk in the back. All the blankets and spare blankets, plus pillows, their robes and anything else soft they could find supplementing the nest they’ve created.

They don’t all fall asleep at once, but they all do sleep. None of their sleep is exactly... comfortable.

He gets skittering-thought-feelings of worry-fear, paranoia-terror, and unease-unease-unease. He tries to exude calm-serenity when he isn’t panicking himself and hiding those thoughts and feelings in the Force, letting them go like ripping the emotions out of his heart.

All the comm calls he places never go through.

Instead of sitting at the pilot’s chair, he joins the kids in the small hold. He can sense that most are still awake, with the smallest of the humans, Merium, fast asleep. He gets the sense she can sleep through anything. The other’s though... well the other’s can’t fall asleep.

“Can I help?” He asks, finally, as his butt has long since fallen asleep and his back aches against the cold wall.

It’s Zatt who answers. “Do... Do you know any lullabies? Or can you just talk? Sometimes our Master used to talk to us until we fell asleep...”

Anakin thinks, finally, there is something he can do.

“Sure,” He says, before he tries to remember all the words, all the right melodies that went with the lullaby his mother had sang him every night since he could remember, and the one he had hoped she continued singing even though he wasn’t there to hear. 

_“In the desert, there rests the sand, every shifting, every changing,”_ He sings, soft and low. The kind of way Padme had enjoyed the one time he had broken down enough to sing to her.   
  
_“In the desert, there comes a storm, ever forming, ever raging._

_“Listen for the desert, and never shall you be, caught in sand and storm, like all the others see,”_

Some of the translations don’t work as well, so he switches to Huttese.

The song continues, a warning and a memory that everyone on Tatooine knows well. But Anakin hardly has to make it to the second chant, before he starts to feel the children nodding off. 

Once he is sure they are all asleep, he goes back to the chair. Tries the communication array again.

No one answers, no one calls back, it is silent.

It is a long, long night.

* * *

It’s as Anakin is checking them over, the next day after breakfast, that Katooni turns to him.

“Can we go outside?”

It surprises him so much that the children would want to go outside when all he feels is fear-worry-terror that she continues without him saying a thing.

“Just outside,” Katooni begs. “We’ll stay within your eyesight.”

They all plead and beg with puppy dog eyes. It’s the first time they’ve asked for anything.

Anakin is a sucker and caves.

“Yes. Alright. Fine. But you have to stay close!”

The younglings all dart off the ship like they are being chased. Anakin follows them gladly because he feels it too. The Force, for all it gives and takes, feels like it was trying to entomb them in that enclosed space. 

Anakin doesn’t watch where the children go, not at first. One moment of selfishness is all he needs. He steps down the gangplank and plops down right there on the cold, hard metal. The fresh air washes over him and ruffles his hair. He tilts his head back and just is.

He can feel it. 

This planet isn’t full of death like Coruscant is. Like the rest of the galaxy is. It doesn’t have the stain of Jedi death soaking into it’s earth.

Not yet at least. The crisis is just beginning. The tainted water is just barely lapping at the edge of the sandbar. Soon it will touch their toes. Then their knees. Until it goes up and over, finally covering them completely. It will be a different sensation. Drowning, after already having been drowned. Treading water just won’t work.

Anakin can sense that it’s going to hurt, almost like knowing he has a splinter, but being unable to take it out. 

He still mourns his mother, and how can he mourn the Jedi any less? His brothers? His sisters? The ones known and unknown, the ones that were gone and the ones still there?

Palpatine is a harder one to mourn ,and he’s not ready to face that betrayal head on. The man is alive, but he is also dead to him.

Looking to the younglings for the first time, he sees that they have split up. 

Katooni, Merium, and Petro are all standing, facing the water of the planet. Whether they saw it before they landed or they can feel it in the Force, Anakin doesn’t know. He’s interested in their little group, but he is just as interested in the other three.

Byph hasn’t come out of the ship, hasn’t moved from his bench after waking up in the embrace of the other younglings. Anakin can feel him nod off, the calm of the planet putting him at ease for the first time in hours.

Gungi and Zatt are by themselves. Not talking, but staring off into the forest. Zatt has his little hands behind his back, thoughtfully cocking his head, listening not with his ears but with his heart. It reminds him of Obi-Wan, that contemplative stance so Jedi he knew he was going to have to do his best to try and teach it out of him, mask it. Gungi has his head bowed, as if listening.

All of them are Jedi Younglings to the letter. From their little robes down to their Temple standard shoes. Their mannerisms aren’t as glaring an announcement of their heritage, but it’s easy to see they are cultured, polite, and thoughtful.

He feels each of them across the field.

He’s known these kids less than twenty hours and he’s already created cursory bonds with each and every one of them. Like people reaching out to like people. Anakin could have called it. Desperate to keep an eye on them. Constant. Just the way it is.

Obi-Wan’s bond is quiet. Dark. 

Anakin can’t bear to think of it, so he doesn’t. Can’t.

He feels, not for the first time, completely overwhelmed.

What the kark was he supposed to do about all of this? How was he supposed to hide seven of them, let alone himself? How was he supposed to clothe them? Feed them? Protect them? All while trying to figure out what the kark went wrong in the first place?

He’s sure his thoughts aren’t new ones. Every new parent must have had them, but surely not seven at once? Without any help, without any support, without any training? Taken from a loving environment and saving them from war?

He feels like the world is turning upside down and he’s trying to reach the floor, but the floor is the ceiling and he’s the only one that knows it. Things that should be in reach dance from his fingertips. Words escape him. The things he needs to do pile up and up and up in a never ending to-do list.

He shuts his eyes tight as he attempts to calm himself.

 _Make a plan._ Obi-Wan’s voice tells him. His Master, stern and guiding, smiling at him in fond amusement from one such memory when Anakin had procrastinated until the last possible moment. 

_Make a plan. Follow through. Don’t stop until you complete a set number of tasks._

That’s what he needs to do. 

He takes a breath.

Make a plan. Follow it. 

When shit gets bad, as it always will, pivot from it. Spring the trap. 

Breaths out.

_Everything is a trap. Be ready for it._

So. Goals. 

The first goal is easy: find more Jedi. There are precious few of them, but still he can feel them dying. He also knows that the Jedi were not just Generals, that there are many who took up watch posts, who traveled the galaxy in search of information. The Clones would be hard pressed to find those Jedi so quickly. The Corps... well, he can only hope they felt the tides change and they escaped with it. 

Anakin would have to be quicker than everyone.

The second goal is going to be harder: Stay out of Palpatine’s grasp. It goes without saying, but Anakin feels he needs to say it to himself, if only to cement it home. Palpatine is not his friend. He cannot be his way out of this mess. 

The third goal is going to be tricky: he needs to find out what made the Clones turn on everyone. He’s not stupid. Neither are the Jedi. If the Clones had harbored any ill-will against their Generals, they would have known. So what changed? 

Anakin was going to find out.

The fourth goal is the most vital, but the one he can’t push. The one he has to be patient with. The other goals come first, because without the other goals, the fourth goal will never happen.

He has to contact Padme. Has to let her know he is alright. To make sure she is all right. So they can make a plan to meet, so they can plan together for the future that has become rocky and uncertain.

He takes another deep breath, watching as the Wookie and Nautolan begin to talk quietly with one another. He can hear, with the wind, that they are chatting about the forest. Trying to work out what the largest, oldest tree is. Not sharing memories, keeping it all surface level.

Anakin can feel them and Byth easily... the other’s not so much.

His heart skips a beat.

The other three are gone.

* * *

He panics. Of course he does. He is Anakin Skywalker. His entire life is panic.

He feels responsible already for these little ones. After all, he took them from the only environment they knew, granted it had been under threat of death, but still. If the Temple hadn’t been under attack and the Jedi hadn’t been destroyed, he never would have met them. They would have lived their lives knowing of him only from stories.

But this isn’t a story. He isn’t just a story.

He is Anakin Skywalker and they are not here.

They’re about to get a lesson in how Skywalker can not, for the life of himself, understand how to let go.

“Merium!" he calls, firmly. “Petro! Katooni!”

Zatt and Gungi are paying attention to him now, turning towards him with wide eyes as they come at his call, even if they aren’t the ones he was calling. Obedient to a fault, they are.

It takes a few seconds, but soon enough the bushes rustle and two little human heads pop out.

“Yes?” Merium calls. She looks so much like Petro in that moment, they could be siblings.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“Uhm,” Petro says, flushing, suddenly sheepish. “We were going to go get some water?”

 _Are you asking or telling?_ he thinks. Memories flash through his mind, his old Basic instructor’s crotchety ways forever instilled in his mind.

He says instead. “On a planet, that none of us know the first thing about, without telling anyone?” 

Katooni had popped out with them and now all three of them looked rather abashed.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Anakin sighs, and rubs his temples, trying to prevent the headache he could feel wanting to burst into life.

 _They’re just kids._ He tells himself. _Making rash and sudden decisions is like breathing for them._

He ignores that that could also describe him.

“Please don’t go anywhere without clearing it through me first,” Anakin asks. He’s not too proud to beg. As the responsible adult, he knows he needs to impress on them what he expects early. “I feel no danger around us, but that can always change at a moment’s notice.” 

They were also children. Children reacted best to honesty.

“Sorry,” Merium says, kicking a rock.

Anakin nods, and then adds, with feeling. “I was worried.”

All three of them look bashful and ashamed, coming back toward him immediately. 

“Sorry,” Katooni says, stuffing her little hands into her robes. Followed by more of the same by her co-conspirators. “It is not far. It’s just over the hill... but we were wrong to leave without saying something. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” Anakin responded honestly. He can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

He could do this. What is so hard about raising children? They would just meditate when they needed to do it. He would help them get necessities. Teach them a little bit about the Force. They’d mediate some more. Boom. Easy.

Speaking of...

“And before we all go running off in different directions, we need to get all of you new clothing.”

Zatt is the only one who understands immediately what he is saying. Not that the others are slow on the uptake.

“Because we look like Jedi?”

“Because we **are** Jedi.”

They stand a little taller at that declaration. Young as they are, there was never a surety that they would be chosen to be Padawans. The support system of the Jedi, while vital, was also that ever elusive boogey man for all Jedi children.

Anakin had never cared about things like that. Logistics. 

He cared about people.

These younglings were going to get a front row seat to him.

* * *

They need supplies. 

The ship, well stocked as it is, isn’t fitted for seven people. It lacks bedding, fresh food, and all the other trappings that children might need.

“We’re going with you.” Petro tells him, arms crossed.

He may be the adult, but it’s clear he’s outnumbered. Even if he has a good reason to keep them back, he doesn’t want to let them out of his sight. They are the only Jedi left with ties back to his old life at the temple. He can’t lose them. The fact that they are children, who will get into more trouble alone than they would with him, is another reason.

“It will be dangerous.” He tells him, already aware they were coming with or without his say . “They may recognize me. Or our clothing. Or anything about us.”

Half of them hesitate, before looking at their clan mates and regaining their courage. All of them nod. Katooni and Gungi seem to be the pillar of calm, the two who lead everyone else headfirst into whatever situation may arise.

 _Good,_ Anakin thinks, they will need that cohesiveness later.

Leaving the children behind isn’t going to happen, so Anakin does the next best thing.

“What are you doing?” Merium asks, but agreeably hands her over-robe to him at his request.

He flattens the fabric on the floor of the ship and eyes it thoughtfully. 

“Just being cautious,” He tells her. “Not everyone in the galaxy knows what robes Jedi wear, but someone might. So we’ve gotta disguise you a little before we can get you new clothes.”

They all perk up at that.

“What kind of clothes?” Byph asks.

“Whatever they have.”

Anakin finds that he’s surrounded when he looks up from his fiddling. Each of them has already taken off their robes and piled them next to him, and then seat themselves, watching him. It’s a little unnerving but... kind of adorable, honestly. 

“Each of us had to study our planet of origin last year,” Katooni says with authority, eyeing the robe he has in his hands as he decides where to rip it. “Culture, diet, and everyday garments were included in the lecture. Would trying to blend in with those who share our ancestry help?”

It’s well known that the Jedi are a melting pot. The kids all know this. Anakin realizes that’s a point he needs to consider.

Anakin sits back as he thought about her point before ultimately shaking his head. “If we all look too different from each other, we might draw more attention. Though if you find something that really stands out and you want it, you can get it.”

He smiles. 

“We may be on the run, but we won’t be hurting for supplies any time soon.”

A brief thought of dropping them off at their planet of choice flitted through his mind, but he ultimately dismisses it.

They are Jedi children. The galaxy will treat them like adults, if previous missions and experiences are to be remembered. If the Jedi were being killed off now, then survivors would be a rare breed in a year’s time.

If there was one thing Anakin knew, as both a former slave and a galactic citizen, it was that rarity just meant a higher price tag.

He said none of his thoughts to the children, instead he kept quiet and worked on the garment in his hand.

Holding it up to Merium he prompts, “Try it on.”

Although she had stared at it dubiously, she is a good sport about it and tries it on. The robe is sleeveless now, without the belt, but it doesn’t look too different. It was something he had seen on spaceports around the galaxy. She would no more stick out than any other child.

She wrinkles her nose. “Is this really different enough?”

“What’s the first thing you think of when you think of Jedi?” Anakin asks.

“Peace!”

“Lightsabers!”

“Master Yoda.”

_“Warriors.”_

“All good answers,” Anakin tells them with a smile. “But I was thinking more about how we first react when we meet someone.” They gave him dumb expressions, so he adds. “Watch.”

Then he uses his own robe as an example and hides his hands in his robe sleeves, sitting up straighter, and raising a brow. All of them had seen a Master or Knight at some point do such an expression. So had half the galaxy.

“Ohhhhhhh!” They all voice their understanding, giving each other looks like _we should have known that._

“So then, no sleeves, no worry we’ll hide our hands?” Merium voices, looking down at her bare arms with a new understanding. “That’s smart!”

“I have my moments.” Anakin replies, dryly.

“That’s really super smart!” Petro says in response as he holds his robe out. “Me next!”

“I never would have thought of that.” Katooni admits, looking down at her lap as she turns inward. 

Anakin could see as all the children seem to ask themselves: _what else do we do that means we’re Jedi?_

It was sobering, watching them, but Anakin doesn’t say a thing more. Not even as every one of them let him adjust their clothes. He makes quick work, knowing they have to get going before sundown, whenever that is on this planet.

All of them lose sleeves, a few belts, and some invert their undershirt over the robe, popping the collar. It looks ridiculous, but in that way that children might dress themselves. Believable. So he says nothing.

Thankfully, Gungi being a wookiee means he doesn’t have to wear much or at least they don’t question. 

If all else fails, he can use a mind trick to escape.

Six children and one Anakin makes for a dangerous excursion.

It’s nerve wracking and Anakin is so on guard that his teeth hurt from gritting them and from showing exactly none of his anxiety on the outside. He notices everything, like the way the stall owner hands out treats to the kids, watching their solemn expressions with a sad look. He sees the way some people look away, not wanting to see them there, knowing, somewhere inside them, who they are. Ignorance will save them. Maybe the news hasn’t reached them. 

It hardly matters.

It hardly matters until it will, but it doesn’t now. He sees the writing on the wall, the way things will go in the future. Anonymity will be the only thing that saves them.

They get food, supplies, and clothes. All of the children choose different styles. They each choose things that match them, while picking one accent piece that is the same for all of them. Anakin watches, a little in awe, a little bit worried, as they choose a small band together, wrapping it around their left wrists and looking at each other meaningfully.

He has no clue what it’s about, but he lets it happen. Unity could get them killed, but he can’t take that from them.

When Gungi brings him the same band, he protests at first.

“Those are for you guys," he says, and he means it. He can tell it means something to them. 

Gungi narrows his eyes and doesn’t take no for an answer, wrapping it around Anakin’s wrist carefully, not allowing his protests to stand.

 _“They are for us,”_ he growls. 

Anakin’s mouth quirks into a small smile, looking down at his wrist, at this gesture that meant so much to the kids. He doesn’t know what, but it hardly matters.

“Us," he affirms. 

* * *

Returning to the ship, they all take a few hours to familiarize themselves with the ship and their new supplies. The only feasible reason they should have to touch down on a planet should be for fuel and to hide.

Then, after that, there’s nothing pressing to concern themselves with. 

It’s awkward. No way to avoid that. 

The first hours knowing the kids had been spent in a whirlwind of action, of running, of escaping. Then when they had had a moment of peace, sleep. The next day had been a slow kind of dance, the kids learning him while he learned them, learning the ship, the supplies they have, coming up with a plan of attack.

Now... Now nothing.

Forty-eight hours after the attack on the temple, Anakin still doesn’t know what the rest of the Galaxy thinks is happening. Did they see the plumes of smoke? Hear the march of Clones? Did they ask questions or did they just go about their lives, assuming it was another seperatist attack?

Anakin decided to do something about that lack of knowledge. When in doubt, holo-net news is where to go.

“We want to watch.” Katooni demands, as Anakin settles into the cubby next to the holo display. 

What was Anakin supposed to say? No?

“That was the plan.” He tells them, typing away as he sets up an encryption, which is a little overkill to watch the news, but does it anyway. “We need to know what’s happening in the galaxy. What’s going on with the war? What the people know.”

It takes no time at all for little bodies to pile in next to him.

There isn’t a lot of room, so the smallest of the kids, Zatt and Byph, sit on his lap. Knowing what the Republic is being told about the Temple purge would be good intel. Not that Anakin necessarily wanted to know how the Chancellor was going to get away with killing them all, but it was necessary information.

“Ready?" he asks them, knowing he wasn’t.

They all nod solemnly as he turns on the first channel.

_“The war is over!” Exclaimed a smiling human female wearing the uniform that all news reporters did._

_The human male next to her chuckled. “Well, yes, Teela, where have you been?”_

Anakin feels sick.

_“It’s been a rather full, action packed solar cycle hasn’t it?” Teela tittered to herself. “I’m just letting our newest viewers know! The war is over! The Separatists have surrendered! Long live the Empire!”_

What. The. Fuck. 

The kids all look at each other in abject confusion.

“What are they talking about?” Katooni asked in horror. Petro adds. “What’s an... what Empire?”

“Shh,” Anakin hushes them, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he pulls Zatt closer on his lap, so he could punch in another news channel. He knows them all by heart. 

The next channel is the same thing: a bunch of brainless reporters reporting that the war is over. The Separatists had been defeated. Long live the Empire.

And over. And over and over.

And the Jedi...

_“Traitors.” One news reporter hissed, clearly trying to keep his cool. “All this time! This entire war! The Jedi were never our allies!" he shook his head. “Dear listeners, as you’ve no doubt heard, the Jedi are to be pursued with the utmost vigilance. It is our duty to report any Jedi sightings to your nearest authority.”_

“That’s not true!” Petro snarled. “The Jedi are peacekeepers!” 

“We didn’t do any of what they are saying we did!”

“How could they think this of us?”

“I know,” Anakin told them. “We all know the truth...”

But the rest of the galaxy? Does not.

It takes him a frighteningly short amount of time to find the latest Senate uplink. The latest video. It reads:

**The Emperor's first speech: 001**

“Is... is the Republic the Empire?” Merium asks, clutching onto his sleeve with her knuckles turning white from gripping so hard.

Anakin doesn’t have any answers for her.

“I don’t know, guys, I just - let’s watch, okay? Let’s watch and see,”

 _None of the children should watch, he thinks._ However, he doesn’t realize that until halfway through.

 **_“The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, had conspired to create the shadow - ”_ ** **_  
_** **_  
_** Lies. All lies. **_  
_** **_  
_** **_“ - Our loyal clone troopers contained the insurrection within the Jedi Temple and quelled uprisings on a thousand worlds. - “_ **

It wasn’t just the Temple. Seeing it in such blatant terms makes Anakin ache all the more. There were no pictures to accompany his words, but Anakin could feel every world that now boasted Jedi blood. He knew which planets a variety of skirmishes had been planned. Which places the Jedi had been defending.

**_“ - The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated! Any collaborators will suffer the same fate. - ”_ **

Motherfucking. No. Please. No.

**_“- The galaxy has traded war for peace and anarchy for stability. - ”_ **

Anakin couldn’t take it anymore. He clicks off the screen, the room’s illumination cutting in half, so that they were all sitting in darkness.

The kids were all quiet, sitting in stunned silence as they clung to each other.

The Republic was dead. The Jedi were dead.

Anakin couldn’t even mourn it correctly. At its best, it was a governing body that had more hope than it could handle and so little in actual action. At its worst it was stagnant and rotten.

But an Empire, run exclusively by Palpatine. With an army loyal to him and him alone. No Jedi to stop him. Anakin shuts his eyes and has to completely clear himself of emotions, or else he would scream. Or possibly break the ship. And since it was their only ship and there were children present, he tries his hardest to contain himself.

Still, he dents the wall to his left. A quiet creak that somehow the children don't notice.

“Master Skywalker... they really believe him.”

Anakin realized that was him. He was the Master. He was the adult in this situation. 

He was beginning to understand how Obi-Wan had felt all throughout his life.

“They do,” he replies, as evenly as he can. 

“But... Why?” Katooni asks.

“Because they think he just ended the war,” Anakin speaks. “Because they think the Jedi were evil, were traitors, were the very enemy they were fighting. Because... Because he can.”

They all were silent then. The air is heavy in the cockpit. 

“Master Skywalker?” Byph asks.

Deep breath.

“Yes?”

“... What do we do now?”

Anakin closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

“We’ll figure that out.”

They sit there for a while longer, their limbs still from shock, unable and unwilling to pull away from each other.

* * *

They refuse to sleep apart that night, dragging Anakin into their nest of blankets, pillows, and warm bodies. If Anakin is being honest, he is relieved. Sleeping alone is not something he wants to do right at this point either. If he had Padme or Obi-Wan he wouldn’t have even considered it. His mind is rife with conflict and pain and the kids don’t deserve that.

They don’t speak, which Anakin knows is wrong, but isn’t sure how to fix it.

They are children. Children who are their own people, with their own ideas, with their own little conceptions of themselves. Jedi children to boot. Mature, but hurting. They all are hurting, but it is so much more potent to him with seven people closed in tight in a small ship.

“Master Skywalker?” The little human girl asks. 

“Yes, Merium?”

“Tomorrow... Tomorrow, when we wake up, can you teach us?”

Anakin forces himself to take a deep steadying breath.

“What do you want me to teach you?”

Merium shrugs. 

“Whatever we’ll need to know?”

There is a general sense that all the children agree. Some more than others. Some more fervently than others.

“Yes. I can do that.”

 _This... this is just training for his own children,_ he tells himself, hugging them close. Training under fire.

He almost laughs.

When had he ever learned any differently?

* * *

The kids don’t stay down for long. They know he doesn’t have answers, so they don’t ask him stupid questions, which is so Jedi in it’s simplicity and Anakin can’t help but be thankful. They still ask questions, though. If they were any other children, they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves. Still, the world is ending around them and the Kids, as he’s taken to calling them all, don’t let anything stop them.

“What are our next moves?” Katooni asks. He already knows she’s going to be the Kid’s leader. The go between.

For everything except cuddles, of course. They all took the initiative when it came to snuggles and hugs. Anakin could count on one hand the amount of people who he had hugged more than five times in the last six months. Now he’s fallen asleep next to more bodies than he’d ever slept with before. In adult life and youth.

He also thinks this is the perfect time for a teaching moment.

“What do you think our next moves are?" he asks, sitting lotus as Katooni’s face becomes curious and thoughtful.

“Well... you always make sure you have the essentials. Help yourself first, so you can help others,”

Straight out of the Jedi Wilderness Survival Course one-osk-one. Good to know these kids have gone through that at the very least. That’s one question Anakin has an answer to.

“And those are?” 

Petro comes over, second in command, and plops down next to Katooni. He can see Gungi hanging behind them, listening. Aware, as always, but knowing his counsel will come later. They are a clan. He is trying not to take over the very necessary position of Master of a Clan, but he knows he won’t be able to stop. He’ll get attached. It’s unavoidable when Anakin Skywalker is involved.

Obi-Wan has taught him that at least: play to your weakness.

“Food. Shelter. Water.” 

“Then that’s what we focus on.”

Petro’s face scrunches up. “But how? The Jedi are being hunted now! And... no offense Master, but your face is one that is well known...”

Regardless of the fact that Palpatine wants him, that’s a true statement. He and Obi-Wan had become somewhat of poster children for this whole war. He bet, if he entered the right building, his face would be plastered large and proud.

Anakin pats him on the head as he gets up.

“Any way we can. You let me worry about my face, ok?”

“What about the other Jedi?”

Anakin was already distracted, his thoughts on a hundred different things, but he nods.

“If we find other Jedi, they can come with us.”

The kids relax at that. “Do... do you think we’ll find many?”

 _No,_ Anakin thinks. 

“Anything is possible,”

* * *

They all have lightsabers, the kids all have smaller ones but no less lethal if at the right intensity, but Anakin knows that won’t do in this new world. It's the first order of business, really, to take them when they wake.

They protest. Anakin would have been worried if they didn’t.

He lets them get it out. 

“We can’t be weaponless,” Katooni snarls. An end to the litany of protests.

It is rebellious, scared, frightened, and worried. The other kids back her up, though Gungi seems thoughtful. They all wonder why Anakin would demand they give up their only weapons, their only defense, against clones and the galaxy at large.

“I understand how you feel,” Anakin assures, but Petro cuts in. 

“Without our lightsabers we’re just buncha kids!”

“Exactly.”

That shuts them up.

The kids watch him. Katooni settles herself. Little Jedi they are, and the Force feels lighter as she releases her emotions in the Force. Everyone follows her.

“Okay, what’s that mean?” 

“Jedi have lightsabers.” Anakin tells them. “The Jedi are being hunted right now. Without lightsabers you’re just kids.” He shook his head. “People don’t hunt kids without a reason.”

He held up his lightsaber. 

“This is all the reason they need.”

He doesn’t have to say more. They hand over their lightsabers. One at a time. Solemn and frightened, but they believe him. It touches Anakin’s heart. He’s had people trust him but this is weightier, heavier. He’s their sole provider, with their trust, they place their lives.

He takes each lightsaber with the same kind of reverence as he had handled his old Master’s lightsaber.

“I promise we’ll still train with them, when we can, when it’s safe.” It is all he can give. “But I’ll train you in other things. How to use the Force so you won’t have to use weapons. How to use other weapons. How to be something other than Jedi. How to blend in.”

He breaths.

“Whatever you want to learn, just tell me and I’ll do the best I can to teach you.”

Gungi is the one who reaches a hand out, lays it on his shoulder.

 _“Okay, Master Skywalker,”_ he sits next to him. “ _We can’t always promise to be perfect, but we’ll listen._ ”

“We’re in this together, okay?”

It’s all he can offer.

It has to be enough.

* * *

They leave at first light.


	6. Chapter 6

Anakin watches the kids like he had once watched Ahsoka when she was but a puffed up youngling thinking she was ready for the adult world. Learning them so he can better cohabitate with them. 

It’s a kind of ingrained thing to him. 

It’s survival. If you want to understand the dynamics of a group, you have to understand what they want. When you understand what people want, you can more readily give it to them. If people get what they want, they are happier. Happier people tend to hit less.

The kids are easy to understand. Simple. Safety is their primary want, but that’s been snatched away, so he offers the only respite he can: the ship. When he leaves the ship, no matter how long, he always leaves the key with one of them, most often Byph, who still doesn’t like leaving the ship anyway. It’s an easy measure to take for their peace of mind. He knows they can’t survive without him, so they won’t take the ship and leave. 

Jedi practicality. 

Food is next on the list. Easy enough. Ration bars may not be tasty, but they are always on hand. He tries to grab fresh fruit and veggies and meat for every planet they visit, but those are always treats. Still, the kids appreciate anything new, always thanking him and making a big deal about it. He remembers what that was like. When his mom would scrounge something nice, how thankful he was. Even if he hasn’t noticed the kids squirreling food away yet, he knows it could happen any day.

He remembers scarcity; which is why it doesn’t surprise him, like it might one of the other Jedi adults.

The next thing on the list is something Anakin has a hard time reconciling with. 

It starts with touches. 

The kids will grab his hands, pat his shoulders to get his attention, playfully tap his body to initiate play. They never outright ask, but sometimes he finds himself with a lapful of children, or with one of them wordlessly requesting a hug. Someone is always in the co-pilot chair.

It’s baffling to Anakin because he never remembers his own childhood, with and without the Jedi, with this much... contact. Affection. He knows the Jedi are a somber group, not often thought of as playful or passionate, but this is different. Did he hug his mother this much? Did he find reasons to draw close to her? Did he sneak around behind Watto to find her? Find all and every reason he could to just... not be away?

Anakin had thought that Jedi children would be different than any other children, but they aren’t. 

It opens his eyes, for the first time, to see this new side to the Jedi. The balance they require of themselves. It made him realize that all Jedi had once been like this. Mace Windu. Ahsoka. Obi-Wan. Vos. Yoda. Just a few of the many he could name that once had an innocence about them, that had once been children, that had once snuggled up in their carer’s arms and nodded off, safe in the knowledge that their lives were valued.

It shouldn’t be such a life changing realization, but he realizes that he had become so bogged down with the war, with pain, with anger that he could hardly look past his own nose. All he could see were the bad parts of the Jedi. The only good thing had been Padme, stolen moments and affection, hidden and toiled over. A secret, not just for their own sakes, but for the sake of their hearts... 

Palpatine had often told him that the Jedi didn’t understand him. But that wasn’t true, Anakin realized with a pang in his chest. He hadn’t understood the Jedi, for all he had been a part of them.

“Master Skywalker?” 

He is jerked from his own thoughts by Merium kneeling in front of him. She was the most timid of the group, even more so than Byph, when it came down to it, so it was a wonder she was there.

“Please,” He says, for what he feels like too many times. “Anakin will do.”

She doesn’t say anything to that.

“You are sad.”

She is quiet and timid, but she, like him, is observant. Anakin hesitates, before opening his arms, this novel sensation not leaving as Merium takes his offering and plops in his lap. He is a little awkward with his arms, but he finally settles them around her.

“You are sad,” she observes again, candidly. 

Anakin raises an eyebrow, but nods anyway. 

“...This doesn’t feel like your usual sadness,.”

Oh? He has a usual sadness? How... awful, Anakin thinks, that the children know that. Yet, he knows it is the truth.

The Jedi were dead, their culture and their people shredded, yet Anakin had been sad far before that. Long before the war, even, if he’s being honest with himself. 

“I’m just reflecting on a lot of things,”

Merium nods, before leaning more fully against him, her forehead catching between his throat and collar. Trust. It sits between them like a huge secret that neither hides. It’s been so long since he was allowed to show such stark affection and closeness with another it is always jarring.

“Master Tiriium would tell us that looking in a mirror for too long could be just as exhausting as ignoring one.”

There is a lot to unpack there, Anakin thinks. A mirror could be vanity, ego, or the stark truth. Ignoring those things could be good, except when ignoring them lead to ignorance. Ignorance served nobody.

“Master Tiriium was very wise.”

“I know,” she says, “That’s why he’s a Master.”

His own lips twitch in amusement, but he doesn’t say anything. The time for words has passed. The Kids rarely say much of consequence and when they do, they have to take a moment afterwards to contemplate it.

* * *

“You need a new name,” Zatt declares as they get back from their latest supply run, waiting for the ship to refuel.

Anakin crouches, checking over the ship’s diagnostics because he honestly has no clue when Obi-Wan last ran diagnostics on his ship. It was in good shape, but still. He recognizes the stillness in the Force and stops. Quiet children are never good. He turns to look.

Oh. They were talking to him. 

“Me?” Anakin asks, pulling on a pretty good imitation of a smile. “I don’t think Anakin is that rare of a name,”

_ “With your face and your name it is,” _ Gungi growles. _ “It is not a good risk.” _

“Oh?”

It’s as if he’s given them permission to all argue their positions. 

“You’re the Hero with No Fear, Master!”

“Everyone around the galaxy knows your face! They’ll find you immediately,”

“Face it, Master, you’re famous.”

They are very earnest, but he can feel their fear. How much they don’t want to lose him. What they would do to keep him alive. Him, the last remainder of their Jedi life. The Jedi would tout that attachments should be ruthlessly squashed, but Anakin knew that their attachments are their greatest strength right now.

It's good solid logic too, on their side.

“All good points,” he concedes, leaning back on his heels. “So. Point made. What do you suggest?”

They had clearly expected a fight. 

“Uhm, well, uhm,” Byph stated, and Anakin knew this one didn’t often get an edge in. They all just kind of... look at each other. Anakin finds, with some amusement, that it’s up to him to continue the conversation.

“Any names you guys like in particular?" he prompted.

This, Anakin didn’t realize, was the last thing he should have said.

Petro spoke first, the one, he was learning, that jumped first without thinking. 

“What about Brigs Darklighter?”

“That is the stupidest name I have ever heard.” Katooni states so dismissively and coldly, Anakin was shocked.

She is usually pretty even keel, the leader, not stepping all over people.

Though it  **is** a pretty stupid name.

“What? No, it isn’t!” Petro goes on the defensive. The rest of the kids are watching the volley back and forth. “Why don’t you come up with one better?”

“I will!” Katooni turned to Anakin. “What about Anakin Starkiller?”

Anakin winced.

_ Oh boy. _

Zatt got in on it then, blinking at them. “The whole point of a new name is to replace the Anakin part...”

“Fine! Then you try!

“Ok... uhm... what about Justin Valor? Bieber?”

“You think that’s better? That’s worse!”

“No it isn’t!”

“Yes it is!”

Anakin watches the back and forth with a growing sense of alarm. They were not just bickering. This is a serious confrontation. No longer a playful little thing. The Force is gnashing teeth, anger, frothing at the mouth kind of unhappiness. He had known children had a much more fragile hold on control, because duh, children, but to watch it go down is awe inspiring.

Zatt is flushed and snarling, close to launching himself at Katooni. Physically.

This needs to stop.

“Hey, hey, hey," he interrupts, getting in between them before it could come to blows. 

Both younglings fume, taking a step back as he forces himself between them. It had the kind of rote ritual to it. Both not looking at each other. Both clenching their fists but absolutely frothing mad. The Force is a maelstrom of conflict.

“Things are getting a little heated.” Anakin ventured. “Let’s just take a break. A name can be decided at any time, but we can’t fight between ourselves, alright?”

They grumble out affirmatives.

Anakin couldn’t believe what he was about to say.

“Come on, let’s cool down outside," he got up, pressing the button to release the hatch. “None of us have meditated since this has begun, have we?”

No. They haven’t.

If Anakin thought he was bad at mediation, he had another thing coming. The children fidget, unable to stay still. They poke each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. The only positive thing is that as they sit, some of them actually sinking into a meditative lull, the anger begins to dissipate.

The fear, the horror, the hopelessness is still there. It wouldn’t leave anytime soon, but at least Anakin could distract from it.

With his eyes closed, he drops into meditation the only way he can:

Quickly. 

If he thinks too long on the why, or the how, or the anything it doesn’t happen. If he thinks on the war, on the loss, on the things he can’t change he will completely lose it. So he doesn’t think. He just does.

The Force around him makes everything glow. Even when his eyes are open, he can see how the Force interacts with the galaxy at large. Though it is with his eyes closed, as they are now, that he gets the clearer, altogether more frightening picture. Can see the eddies, the flow, the gaps, the voids.

Meditation is supposed to be how the Jedi ‘become one with the Force’ but it’s more like communion for Anakin.

He’s always already ‘talking’ to the Force. Meditation is just a longer way to hear clearly. Except there are only so many ways the Force can tell him to ‘duck’ or ‘weave’ or ‘run’ before he really feels meditation is necessary. He’s also frightened of what the Force may tell him now, with the Jedi dead and dying.

Somehow, he can still be startled when Byph appears and plops in his lap.

“Oomph," he let out the breath he had been holding, creaking open one eye to see the youngling squirm around until he got comfortable. Since they had forced him out of the ship, he had gone right back to the bench. This was some kind of progress, even if Anakin was confused on what. Byph says nothing, so it’s up to Anakin.

“Hello there?”

The most tentative of touches in the Force, along that newly inkling of a bond perking up, told him all he needed to know. Byph feels safe for the moment, when before he had not. The feeling of peace, even false as it was, floating around him must have been attractive enough. He sees that some of the other younglings had crept closer. 

Obi-Wan would be proud of him.

That sends a pang of regret straight through his chest. Which was not good, because that made him think. Think about all he had lost.

Obi-Wan is alive, he had to believe that. Padme too. There was no reason for the Empire to touch her...

Except for him.

Two more kids come then, not sitting on him this time, but sidling up right next to them. 

“Sorry, Master Skywalker,” Petro apologizes.

“What are you apologizing for?” Anakin asks, bewildered as he tries to keep the tears at bay.

“You’re hurting, too.” Katooni speaks, with wisdom beyond her years. 

Anakin runs a hand across her tendrils, pulling her closer. “We’re all hurting. Not just me. Not just you," he takes a breath, “All the Jedi.”

They all came then. All six of the little bodies pressed up against him. Needing the closeness. Needing... him. 

_ I should have been a Creche Master,  _ Anakin thinks to himself in amusement. A guy could get used to this much adoration and hugs. And babies and children had so many emotions, he would have fit right in.

_ “You should choose a Mandalorian name,” _

Anakin choked as he turned to the young wookie.

“Where did that come from?”

_ “They are fearsome warriors.”  _ Gungi stated simply. _ “Haters of the Jedi. It will give you ambiguity. People will think twice before crossing you.” _

“Huh. Not a bad plan...” Anakin muses. “Have it all planned out, huh?”

_ “No. Never, Master.” _

They were going to be alright. 

* * *

The next day, they begin to train. 

The Kids all convince him that they needed it, not that it took much to convince him. They need some normalcy. Need to learn what they must to survive. Need something to keep them from going crazy. He takes out their lightsabers from the carefully chosen compartment at the front of the ship.

He starts by asking them all what they know. 

They were old enough to begin to learn about the Galaxy at large. The good, the bad, the ugly. Their teachers and their Clan Master surely would have begun to teach them. Still, how can he not be surprised when Katooni, Gungi, Petro, Byph, and Zatt informed him that they had met his Padawan once? Then the story had only gotten more and more wild from there. She had taken them on their Gathering, before they had been set upon and captured, kidnapped, where the children had to rescue her with the help of the pirate, Hondo.

That had... taken him a few hours to process, if he was being honest. Merium right there with him.

They knew Hondo.

(“He’s nice,” Katooni tells him, all doe eyes and smiles that did not hide how fond she was of the Weequay.)

Obviously, these children know enough about the galaxy. They could start to learn what Anakin knew. 

He starts with sparring, because he knew physicality best. Hands out the lightsabers, the kids all glowing to receive them back.

They all had lightsabers, though Merium had clearly gotten hers on a different Gathering than her clan-mates, and quickly began to go through their forms. Anakin watches them all closely, correcting where he could, helping when he saw need, but allowing them to show him what they were made of. About half the time is also dedicated to vibroblade practice. 

All of them had potential. Some more than others. 

Katooni, Petro, and Gungi all thrive with a lightsaber in hand. He could see that Gungi and Katooni, especially, took the time to relish the time they had during the spar, in the violence, meditative almost. The other three were far more clinical and kept to the forms, no deviation, no real passion for it. Which would keep them safe, sure, but never have a career in it.

Meditation was easily Merium’s and Byph’s favorite time. While Zatt far preferred using his extra time to tinker with electronics and puzzles. Gungi loved flying, even if his instincts were still being honed, while Petro much preferred being in the co-pilot seat.

Every day he was learning more and more about these kids.

With every day that passed, he couldn’t imagine a life without them.

They have insinuated themselves in his life, in short order. When he goes through his own forms, when he spars with them, when he pilots. When they all sit for meals. When he did research he always had a buddy. He doesn't have a moment alone and yet he doesn't feel particularly stifled. Touches to his arm, to his shoulder, to his belly, to his side, all letting him know they were alive, near.

It is a reassurance, almost, that they were all  **alive** . 

But it isn't always sunshine and rainbows. 

Often a kid or two would become melancholy and withdrawn, like Zatt had been the first few days. The ship is small, so they could hardly run away, and there was no place to hide. Then they had a conversation on that very subject and things got... better.

* * *

Anakin is in the pilot’s chair, charting what he thought was the best route for them to take, when it began. Not that Anakin couldn’t feel it brewing, but there was the kind of rain before the storm, thunder before the lightning kind of warning in the Force. It was only a matter of time.

“Get! Out! Of! My! Face!” Petro screams, making Anakin jump out of his seat. Using a kind of gymnastics that all pilots learned to get out of the front of the ship fast, Anakin found himself in the core of the ship, where the children are, only to see Petro and Zat face to face, screaming more words at each other. 

“Just go over there!”

“I can’t! Gungi’s over there! Merium is over there! And Byph is there! Where else am I supposed to go?” Zatt snarls. “The airlock?”

Petro isn’t backing down though. “I don’t care. Just give me some peace and quiet for two seconds!”

Anakin sighs.  _ Cabin fever. This was going to be fun. _

“Guys, guys,” he pleads, while he walks the rest of the way into the space. “What is it this time?”

Not like he couldn’t guess, but he had learned early with Ahsoka that she just needed a reason to tell him what was wrong. Playing dumb was the easiest way to get the truth.

Petro spoke first, though Zatt wasn’t far behind, so their words overlap.

“I was just sitting here-”

“It wasn’t my fault! There isn’t-”

“He just won’t leave me alone!”

“Merium and Katooni already have the couch!”

“And then he kept bugging me!”

“And I would sit with Gungi but he’s doing that - “

Anakin couldn’t understand a word. 

“Okay, okay, enough!” he ends up having to shout. Which quiets the kids.

He rubs his face.

“One at a time, please?” and seeing that they are about to argue on who goes first, he says, pointedly. “One at a time. Zatt, you first.”

The Nautolan takes a deep breath, calming himself and getting his thoughts in order.

“I just wanted a place to sit and read,” he finally admits. “But Petro was being a nerf about it all and wouldn’t share his seat!” 

He crosses his arms and looks at the wall. Anakin realizes that’s it, that’s all he’s going to share as Petro begins.

I just -” 

“Ahh ha,” Anakin held up a hand to Petro, before turning to Zatt. “Is that all? That’s all you want to say before I let Petro speak?”

Zatt is quiet for all of a moment before he adds.

“He’s being a butt head.” Defiant to the last.

Anakin nods.

“Not a nice word, but based on the circumstances, I’ll allow it,” he turns from one to the other. “Now. Petro, in your own words, what happened?”

“I was just sitting here and Zatt kept bothering me,” he grumbles, “I just wanted some peace and quiet!”

_ At least they are short with their summarizations of the events, _ Anakin thought wryly. He would have appreciated that in a soldier, but in the kids it’s just weird.

“All you have to say?”

“Am I allowed to call him names?”

“Let’s not.”

“Then yes.”

Anakin sighs again, before seating himself next to Gungi. There is plenty of space, but Anakin can understand why Zatt would prefer to sit at the table, instead of against the very uncomfortable wall, if one didn’t have a pillow, like Gungi did.

“Let’s make a deal,” Anakin starts, getting everyone’s attention, including those who were pretending not to care about the events transpiring. “The closest ship port we find, we get a bigger ship.”

That Anakin was already planning on doing this, with or without their input, was immaterial. Right now was negitation time. Either way, the questions began before he could even get to the actual  **deal** .

“How much bigger?”

“Would we each get our own room?”

“What about guns?”

_ “Can we get one with more comfortable seating arrangement?” _

“Will it have guns?”

“... Can I shoot the guns?”

Anakin decides to just wait them out. Crossing his arms, he leans against the wall and waits. He’s become a lot more... patient these days. When stuck in a small ship, with small children, one must do what one can to keep the peace.

They all quiet down. One by one, until Petro shuts his mouth with a click.

“Done?”

Nods.

“Alright, then let me finish. Next ship port, if you guys can get along, we’ll get a bigger ship. With sleeping quarters for each. And guns.” He shoots that at Byph, who’s been very adamant about the guns. “Which we will each be taking turns learning, so we can be best prepared. But only if you guys promise to get along?

Katooni looks at Petro. Petro looks at Byph. Byph looks at Zatt and Gungi, Gungi and Katooni look at Merium.

Then as one, they all turn to Anakin and nod.

“Deal.”

* * *

That had lasted all of twelve hours before the first fight, but it was twelve hours well spent.

Anakin has to break the next pair apart. Sending them to corners to contemplate their behavior and meditate. Then no more fights that day as it is already time for bed. But the next day has its own spats and arguments to contend with. Anakin’s just happy that his deal is working, because the other children step in to try and stop the fights.

And it’s not like Anakin isn’t exempt from sadness. 

The closer he draws to the children, the more he remembers his Padawan, his Master, and his Wife. Merium and Katooni are hard headed and passionate, not giving an inch when they think they are right like so many Jedi. Gungi would give him ‘a look’ sometimes that reminded him so strongly of Obi-Wan, that he almost thought that Obi-Wan’s eyes had been transplanted into a wookiee’s body.. Every single one of them was so good, so kind, and cared so deeply that he almost always had to stop himself from going to sulk over his exodus from his wife. He remembered Jedi who were dead. He remembered Clones who had no doubt killed their superior officers. Each and every memory was precious and heart wrenching in equal measure. They hurt but Anakin wouldn’t give them up for all the credits in the world. 

A week of seven broken people, trapped in a ship, escaping the world passes in bits and pieces. 

* * *

Life passes in bits and pieces.

* * *

“It’s not the size of the egg that matters, just about how the omelet tastes!” Petro shouts, interrupting Anakin.

“STOP QUOTING YODA!” Zatt yells right back. “You’re misquoting him! All wrong!”

Merium and Katooni are on the sidelines cackling as Gungi and Zatt throw fifty different balls at each other in a game of Keep-Away-Hit. 

Anakin wonders, as he often does, how he has lost control of his life so spectacularly.

* * *

It’s time. Anakin figures it out only ninety-four hours into the hell that is now their lives. He has all this time, all these things to do, but there is no grand end to it all. No finale he can conceive that will end the struggle.

With the war, there was always an end. With training, there was always an exhaustion that made him stop. With learning, there was always an outcome.

There has always been a stopping point for him.

Now, there is just time stretched endlessly in front of him, an endless march, an endless chasm.

_ What am I going to do with myself?  _ Anakin asks himself, as he looks out at the stars, at planets and suns and moons that have names that he will never learn. 

There is a pressure to be doing something, but there is also the wait that comes along with it. He can’t contact Padme or Obi-Wan, even though stars know that he’s tried. He has to wait for them. 

He can’t just figure out the Clone problem. He needs more information. Information that is at an all time low. Staying away from Palpatine is more a game of Coria-Coria-Hungia, keep away, constantly keeping one step ahead of the man, knowing he’s working against the resources of a Republic.

Nothing is pressing. Everything is pressing.

It’s a strange juxtaposition that leads him to being stressed, with nothing concrete to pin it on, which just means...

He has time to sit and think.

Anakin doesn’t sit and think on principle. Anakin with time on his hands is a menace. Anakin with nothing to do but relax, sit down, stare up at the night sky, is a new kind of Anakin that Anakin doesn’t want to meet.

Yet, against his will, it happens.

There is no quiet peacefulness to him. His entire body strums and strains for movement and action, yet he can’t do anything. He’s already ran through every kata he knows. Five times. He’s recited the alphabets in twenty languages. 

Nothing has changed.

Padme is still off on her own. Obi-Wan is still gone from his life. The Jedi are still dead. The war is over. 

And Anakin?

Anakin is still for the first time since he can remember.

... And he doesn’t hate it.

* * *

The Kids don’t necessarily notice it, but Anakin knows they’ll catch on. Even if there is nothing physical to grab.

Byph figures it out when he sits with him for almost five hours meditating, the calm in the Force unlike any either of them have felt since the bloodbath at the temple had ripped the calm right away. Understanding lights up Katooni’s eyes with puzzlement as she watches him sit outside, unmoving for hours on the newest planet they have stopped at to refuel. Gungi watches in awe as Anakin placidly sits and recites all the planets in a twenty star-mile area. By name. Even remembering their moons.

Petro and Zatt take the longest to see, to understand, but when they get it, they’re almost dismissive. How could it be a big deal? They had only known Skywalker for three days.

Who would ever look for Anakin Skywalker, hero with no fear, warrior and energizer-haru, in this relaxed, peaceful man?

Stay away from Palaptine? Check.

* * *

Anakin was thinking they were going to be alright.


	7. Chapter 7

They name him Vrol Oler. They name him guardian.

Together, without his permission, they all unanimously agree to call him ‘older brother’. He argues them away from father or dad, which was too intimate, made them too much a target. Siblings could be guarded, but sons and daughters were to be protected. It was a weakness nobody else needed to know.

Secretly, he would have been fine with it, but the target it painted was too much.

A target is the last thing they need.

He knows he’s going to have to get into the far shadier side of the galaxy for them to survive. Smuggling. Bounty hunting, non-guild work of course, he could never get into a guild without showing his face to at least one person. And owing a person that kind of debt was... too much. 

There is a moment where he considers honest work. Mechanical things. Farming. The like.

Save for the fact that Anakin would be bored out of his mind, and the fact that there is no reason for a mechanic to wear a mask.

And he has six younglings to care for, to cloth, to feed. He knows the average salary for a mechanic. 

Shadows, to no one’s surprise, feed better than light.

He has a good chunk of credits that he had taken from the temple before they escaped, but a couple million credits is nothing to people on the run. They save money because he can fix anything they need and therefore their ship costs them nothing but fuel. The only problem with that is it’s small. Sure, a nice vessel for diplomatic missions or to get them from one side of the galaxy to the other - but it’s not his war ship. It’s small, it doesn’t have the cargo space, and it needs to be replaced.

Eventually. The deal dictates it.

That is a worry for another day.

It’s been only five days, but it feels like a lifetime. They have jumped between three planets: Coruscant, Chandrila, and the planet they were currently on: Chardaan, the Shipyard. They all have new clothes, but Anakin was working on securing them new identities. He has had many identities in his life but all of them the Republic, now the Empire, knew. 

Chardaan, for being an export planet of ships, also has a very active underground. One reason he had chosen it. 

The other reason was he now had unfettered access to a  _ skarg  _ of ships. Could see what ships were currently in stock and what they could afford. What they could trade up to.

Still, that was for tomorrow. 

For now he needs to put the children to sleep and attempt to contact his wife, or Obi-Wan, or anyone really. Something he does every night, with no success. It’s a little like shouting in the dark. Except twice as disheartening.

“Tell us another story!” Zatt demands, burrowing under his blanket and poking his head up through the nest. 

Petro demands. “The one about your battle on Geonosis?”

The rest of them all perk up, faces pointing towards him.

“Yes! That one!”

“Pleaseeee!”

That story is a rather harsh one. And a little heavier than Anakin wants for tonight. Nor did he think he could tell it... Not with the betrayal so fresh, the reminder of the start of the war too grim.

“How about the time where my Master Obi-Wan got in trouble and I had to rescue him?”

“Yes please!”

“Oh, that sounds like a disaster!”

“Alright, alright," he gives in easily. “You all washed up?” 

He receives nods.

“Changed? Ready?”

“Yes, Vrol!”

At least they had dropped calling him Master Skywalker, but the new name was still a little awkward on their tongues. It was nothing like his old names and nicknames, but Anakin would get used to it. They all were settled in bed, lying down, because his rules for story time were simple: lay down and fall asleep at any time you want.    
  
He has yet to repeat a story, but he knew eventually he would run out.

“Have I told you about the time that my Master fell into a Gundark nest and I had to save him?”

By the amused snorts, giggles, and shaken heads he surmises that no, he had not.

“Well it started as many of our adventures did.” Anakin begins, in a way that has quickly become rote. “The Jedi Council sent us to stop a war from breaking out, or at the very least helping to stop it, or try to solicit peace talks. And my Master did what he always did best...” 

Here he shares a smile with the kids, who all chime in.

“Master Obi-Wan Kenobi got himself in trouble.”

“That’s right, he did.”

“How?”

Merium always asks that question. Anakin smiles.

“How else?” Anakin shakes his head. “He went looking for it.”

The kids all settle into the pillows, eyes still wide, in for the story, not tired yet. It won’t take too long, though, Anakin knows. He had run them ragged today with training and games, watching them carefully, but letting them have a little more freedom every day. They distract him right on back and he's thankful for it.

“So it started when we arrived on Vanqor.” Anakin’s voice took on that story telling quality, whisper-talking. “I can’t remember if it was for a galactic matter or planetary matter, it doesn’t matter either. All that matters is that we took a walk, with both of us taking different paths so we could scope the place out, without really warning the natives.”

Petro nods, as if he understands the strategy.

“So, it’s as I was away from him that I felt along our bond a brief moment of surprise and shock.”

He gives them all a knowing look. 

“Not good. Obi-Wan rarely will transmit accidentally, and when he did, that meant things were...” he almost curses, but he curbs himself. “That meant that things were out of his control. Never a good thing.”

_ “What did you do?” _

“I went after him, of course,” Anakin huffs, amusement clear. Before he becomes serious. “You never leave your partner without backup. Got it?”

“Got it!” They all chime in.

“There is a reason we were sent out two by two,” Anakin tells them, a moment to teach popping up as they always do. “If you find yourself in danger, and you’re alone, it’s up to you to save yourself. With a partner, you have someone who you’ve communicated with and they will know something is wrong, and come to help you.”

He takes a breath. Whew. 

“Where was I?”

Ever so helpful, Merium tells him. “Obi-Wan was in trouble and you felt it in your bond!”

“Ah, yes, yes, that’s right,” Anakin nods his thanks. “So there I was. I knew Obi-Wan was in danger. I knew the way he had gone. Comm range between us wasn’t the best, and nor was it great planetary wide. So I had to make a decision. Get help or just go and help him myself.”

The kids lean forward.

“You went right to him, right?” Zatt asks. “You didn’t wait?”

“I did not. Obi-Wan was in trouble and as far as I knew, we weren’t in danger from the locals. So, off I went. The jungle was pretty thick, but with a lightsaber it’s pretty easy to make a path.”

He mimes cutting through the brush.

“So there I am, chopping my way toward Obi-Wan, when I hear it.”

Shoulders hunched, the kids hold their breaths.

“Grrrrrrr,” He snarls, in a very perfect mimicry of the Gundark. He had always been good at such things, throwing his voice and mimicking, and he uses it now. The Kids know this now, but the first time there had very nearly been violence when he made the sound of a Kryt dragon protecting her nest, a story from his childhood on Tatooine that first night.

“I froze.” Anakin does so in reality too. The kids hang onto his every word, eyes bright as the darkness of the ship becomes even darker.

He waits. He waits some more.

“Then what happened?” Byph asks, voice small.

“Then I jumped into a tree and hunkered down. I stayed there, listening for a few more minutes, but I didn’t hear anything, so I made my way across the treetops, along the branches, watching the ground,” he stands up and starts leaping along the tiles of the ship, as if they were really branches. The kids all giggle at his antics, which makes him privately smile. “Then I heard it again! Grrrrrrr,”

“Only this time, louder,” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “And certainly more! And so I sat on the branch,” He hunkers down. “And I waited.”

He waits a shorter period of time this time, before he continues.

“But this time, there is no time to wait, because I can feel Obi-Wan much clearer. He’s feeling all muddled, like he might have been unconscious and was just now regaining his thoughts. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time. So I ignored caution and ran faster than I had before!”

This time, he turns back towards the kids and plops down.

“And then I found it.” He stops, ominous, which the children, being children, can’t stand the silence.

“What?”

“What was it?”

“The Gundark nest!” Anakin whispers. “It looked like a big nest made of big tree limbs, almost like a cave, and on the top I could see from the branches I was in, that there was a little, human sized hole.”

“Master Obi-Wan!” Byph cries out, pulling the blanket tighter. “Was he alright?”

“He was fine,” Anakin assures. “But he was waking up, and so were the gundarks in the nest with him!”

He waves his hands wide. “I didn’t have time to wait. I had to act. So, I aimed for the hole, and dove in.”

Merium leans forward, gasping along. 

“There were five gundarks, all sleeping, and in the middle, there he was. My Master was waking up, not being quiet about it, and I had to act even quicker.”

He settles his own movements, lowering himself, quieting. “I knew I had to be extra quiet, so I landed next to him as softly as I could, the Force my guide, and reached down,” He reached down with his hand. “And that's when the Momma Gundark woke up.”

“Oh no!”

“There was no time to stop and check him over, I grabbed him by his waist, threw him over my shoulder, and turned to see the biggest, snarliest gundark I’ve ever seen, staring straight at us!”

Petro and Katooni are leaning so far forward, their faces are squished on top of Byph’s and Zatt’s.

He has them all right in the palm of his hand.

“She was blocking the entrance, and the hole was very far up. Jumping into the hole was easy, but getting out would have been a feat even I couldn’t accomplish with Obi-Wan on my back, so I followed the Force. And jumped right on the Gundark’s back, leaping over her, and running into the forest.”

He grabs his pillow, throwing it over his back, and quickly running to the other side of the room.

“I ran. She chased me. I led her all over the forest, and she wasn’t giving up!”

He dodges invisible beasts, branches, and the like, before he skids to a stop, turning to the kids. Dictating as he went.

“And then, suddenly, she stopped.”

“What? Why?” Katooni demands.

“I was up in the tree and I turned to look down, to see her snarling and snorting at us, but she had stopped. And that’s when Obi-Wan decided to wake up, fully. He had been a useless lump this entire time, and now he had  **decided** to wake up.”

“And do you know what he said to me?”

“No?”

“What?”

“What did he say, Master?”

Anakin chuckles. “He said, ‘Well, Anakin, I see we have gotten ourselves into quite a predicament.’”

“And I said, “You fell into a gundark nest, Master,’”

“And he said back, ‘Well. I must have lost my footing,’”

He throws the pillow down and sits on it.

“And I said, ‘Well, you must have lost something, Master,”

“We had probably gotten to the edge of her territory, so she didn’t care about us anymore. From there, it was easy to get back to civilization. Then we got back to the ship and took a long, long nap.”

“The end.”

The kids all smile and giggle, moving pillows and blankets to a better position to actually sleep. The deal is done and they have to hold up their part of it. 

“You tell good stories, Master Skywalker,” Merium says, laying down and stretching her arms up, hitting Zatt in the face.

“Vrol,” He reminds. “And thank you. I had a good teacher.”

“ _ Wait. _ ” Gungi blinked.  _ “Did Master Kenobi teach you how to tell stories?” _

Anakin shakes his head. “He didn’t teach me exactly, but he was very good at telling them. It was easy to learn from watching him, and whenever I spent time in the creche, I always had stories to share, so I got rather good at sharing them.”

It had been one of the only ways he had made friends. Being the weird ten-year-old Padawan, who had never been raised as a Jedi, and who got to go with his Master on all sorts of cool adventures... well, Anakin had to learn fast how to make that work for him. Children could be cruel, without and with meaning to, and Anakin knew that well from his past on Tatooine. Jedi children were like any other, he learned, which he wasn’t surprised by.

The kids don’t need to know that.

“Alright, my end of the bargain is done. Do you guys need anything before I turn the lights out? Bathroom? Water?”

Byph does get up and go, but everyone else just settled, eyes closing. 

When the younglings get back, and into bed, Anakin finally extinguishes all the lights.

“‘Night guys.”

The chorus of replies is rote, too, in a way.

“‘Night Vrol.”

“‘ _ Night. _ ”

“Sleep well, Master.”

“Night night.”

And the other two are already out.

It doesn’t take long for the rest to follow as Anakin keeps a firm watch on their bonds. When they all level out, Anakin allows himself to finally take time to himself.

With the kids asleep, he leaves to go sit on the top of the ship. To think. To get himself sorted.

That story had brought up a lot of memories. 

Obi-Wan brought up a lot of memories. Nearly half his life was spent with his Master at his side and he was feeling a particularly huge hole in his chest thinking about the older man. His wise counsel would have been well received right about now.

But he’s not here. 

Anakin’s all alone.

* * *

His communication unit has been long lost, but he knows Padme’s dial number by heart. It just depended on if she had kept it. He had done his fair share of snooping and soon after the Empire’s formation, Padme had gone back to Naboo. Anakin feels relieved at that but also completely terrified. 

Palpatine knows she is pregnant. Knows he is the father. It was only a matter of time before he went after her.

The holonews seem to be pretty sure she had left by herself, under no threat or guard. For what worth the holonet had, anyway.

As long as he doesn’t go after her... he is reasonably sure she is safe for a little while longer. 

The beeping continues, not going through. Anakin sighes, putting it away. Padme had not answered, again. Or perhaps it was as he feared and she had changed it. He knows Obi-Wan’s comm would have changed, been destroyed, or any number of things. Contacting him was useless. As Jedi, their lives were now a commodity to be sold and bartered, dead or alive they all had bounties.

He knows there are other senators that Padme had trusted that he could reach out to and he would have.

If not for the children.

How could he justify putting their lives in danger? How could he even think about bringing them back into Empire space, out in the open, when they didn’t even know the beginnings of protecting themselves? After training, perhaps, but right now he couldn’t risk it.

Padme is safe until the child is born. He had to believe that. Palpatine doesn’t need her. He didn’t. She’s also bait, a trap. Palpatine wouldn’t hurt her, because he still wanted Anakin.

He isn’t making progress on some of his goals, but he knows it was only a matter of time.

_ Find the Jedi. Stay out of Palpatine’s grasp. Figure out what made the Clones turn. Contact Padme. _

No Jedi. No Padme. No clue about the Clones. He was doing a good job staying ahead of Palpatine. 

One out of four. 

Could be worse.

He sighs and flops back, staring up into the sky. The planet is completely surrounded by ships, but even still there were hints of stars in the distance. It was a comfort. There were always stars. Even back on Tatooine, especially back on Tatooine, there had been the endless sky above him.

Tomorrow he needs to go check out ships. Settle the children before he did so. Sort out their idents. Get more supplies. The usual laundry list. 

Tonight, though. Tonight was for him.

He needed a drink.

* * *

In the bar he sequesters himself to the far end of the bar top, to watch the holo play clips of the Emperor's speech. He wears his hood up and nobody bothers him. Maybe he gives off a ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe because of the anger he feels at watching Palpatine might as well set his cloak on fire.

He hadn’t listened to the whole speech with the kids and now he does.

It is not... easy.

Palpatine was just as disfigured as the last time he saw him. Standing on that platform, giving that speech of how the Jedi are terrible, horrible. How they betrayed the republic. How they are responsible for the entire war. Anakin only just barely doesn’t break the cup in his hand as Palpatine declares them traitors. Nothing new. Obvious.

Then Palpatine said new words. Words he and the kids hadn’t heard and his blood ran cold.

“Anakin Skywalker is the only Jedi whom you should trust.”

Kriff. He’s glad he had turned it off before the Kids had seen.

He still wanted him. Anakin’s mind raced. Palpatine wanted him badly enough to put a more horrifying brand on him than traitor or Jedi or General.

Palpatine had branded him a friend.

The tickling spider-like feeling of terror ran its way up his back. Makes him paranoid. Makes him want to run. Run and run and never look back. It would make him a coward. But isn’t he a coward already? The Temple was now a crypt. The Jedi were all on the run. He isn’t special in that respect.

Anakin has no illusions that all of the Jedi were running for their lives, but Anakin is running for his soul.

He left a few credits and went back to the younglings. He hurries back, the dark barely registering to him, the Force his guide.

They are already in bed, but he can’t help but sit on one of the bunks, watching them sleep in the puppy pile in the center of the ship. In sleep, their worried little faces smoothed out. There are no arguments. There are no big reveals. No emotions. Just children sleeping. 

They are all alone in the galaxy. Except for him.

He is a poor substitute for everything they had once had. Barely a Jedi Master. Barely a Jedi.

“What are we going to do?” Anakin asks open, empty air.

None of the children answer, asleep as they are.

_ I’m sorry, Padme. _ He apologizes to the stars, tears running down his cheek.

Before that message, before understanding, Anakin had thought he would have a chance to make his way back. Stop by the planet, hide away, sneak his way to Padme. But this changes everything. His face, his very person, is now the most hunted person in all the galaxy. Not the Jedi, though they are hunted, but him.

Anakin Skywalker was a hero to the Empire, which meant he could never go back.

He couldn’t go back. Not now. Perhaps not ever.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day the kids are all up, rambunctious and wild. Gungi is not a morning Wookiee by any stretch of the imagination and sequesters himself away in the co-pilot's chair to eat his fruit. Petro and Katooni are having their usual morning grudge match, silent as they are, but clearly having a battle of wills. Zatt and Byph are quiet, contemplative little presences.

Merium sleeps late, even with all the noise. It’s admirable.

Anakin watches it all like he imagines someone with a recorder would watch people for a docu-series. 

Then Katooni finally stops the little tete-a-tete with Petro and plops next to him.

“So what’s the plan today, boss?”

Anakin knew exactly what.

“Well, today we’re doing things a little differently.”

That gets all the children’s attention. And a hiccuping snore from Merium. Gungi pops his head to look through the door, listening.

“Yeah?” Zatt questions. “How so?”

“Are we going to spar?” Petro demands.

Byph actually speaks. “Are we going to learn how to mind-trick people?”

Anakin shakes his head, happy to see them so excited, but stays quiet. 

“Well, I have a few errands to run, but before that I think we need to do our usual meditation and then try our hand at learning how to cloak.”

They all look at him blankly.

_ “Cloak?”  _ Gungi howls from the co-pilot's chair.

“Cloak.” Anakin agrees. “Now, wake Merium so we can get started.”

* * *

He is not the best teacher.

Anakin knows this. Obi-Wan knows this. Ahsoka knew this. The Council knew this.

The children in front of him? Well... they were learning.

War was easy. Sparring is easy. Defending yourself is easy. They don’t require a lot of theoretical knowledge. All you need is a saber, the Force, and the ability to get up over and over and over again when you got your ass handed to you. Humility would come in time, and Anakin never wanted for opponents to kick his ass. Or for him to kick their ass.

Anakin knows what he is good at.

Teaching younglings how to disappear so completely in the Force as to be non-existent? 

Yeah. No.

That would take a trained teacher. Which the children didn’t have. 

All they had was him. 

And he would have to make due.

“What do you guys know about hiding?" he ends up asking after meditation. Right after the energy of the ship had mostly settled into content calm. The fighting would start later, he was sure.

With that studious and perfectly safe way Padawans answered questions, Gungi answers. “L _ ike hide and seek? _ ”

They are so innocent. Anakin speaks of hiding like someone is chasing you. Like someone has come to do you harm. How can these children of the temple ever understand? That had had one moment of terror, if needing to hide, but you need more than that. Their lives have been privileged in a way that Anakin had never been able to understand, even as a ten year old. Yet, even as a ten year old he had been taken as a Padawan. He’d had responsibilities as a child of the temple and none of the creche protection.

So how does he make it clear?

All of the children gather around him, watching him think.

“You have to be the wind,” Anakin finally decides on. “You have to be the silence. You need to be that which people look through, not because you aren’t there, but because you can’t afford to be seen.”

They all wrinkle their noses as he describes it. Gungi has his eyes closed tight. Petro and Zatt stare off into the distance, weighing his words in their mind. Merium taps her fingers against her shin, mouth screwed up in a grimacing line. Katooni and Byph have their eyes shut, hands on their thighs, lost within themselves.

It’s textbook, really, how they all react.

While they are distracted, Anakin disappears. The fledgling bond was felt by all going dark.

“Master Skywalker!” rings out immediately as they all turn to look at him, mouths dropping as they stare at where he was. Where he had been just a moment before.

“Master?” Merium asks.

“I’m here.”

Petro screws his face up into a determined look. “And... is there any way we can  _ all  _ learn this?”

Anakin smirks, which he knew they couldn’t see.

“There is no try. Do or do not. All things are possible.”

With that, the children all settle in to try it out for themselves. 

* * *

During the day, as they had all settled in to practice, Anakin ducks out to find his contact for Idents. 

It should, theoretically, be easy. The last time Anakin was on planet he had met with the squirrely Twi’lek on the edge of town at the place he was squatting. The chances of him moving were... well slim to none were too nice of odds.

No’nira is the kind of blackmarket dealer Anakin likes.

He’s got a kind of honor that is lacking in many other beings in the galaxy. As long as you have money he’ll do what needs to be done, and keep quiet about it. He also kept his mouth shut. Obi-Wan nor Anakin had never gotten one of his contacts from him, and they had tried, even willing to pay and protect him. Anakin has always felt respect for that kind of loyalty to his consumer base.

The abandoned warehouse is on the edge of district 5, and the man in question has taken over the whole of the second floor, living in the maze of catwalks and hidden rooms. Anakin walks up the stairs to the silence of a city unable to intrude through duracrete walls. The whole place is a void in the Force. Empty.

“Hello?”

“You know, with what they’re saying on the net,” No’nira raises a brow as he steps into his room, through the beads making up the curtain into a musty smelling room. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Anakin snorts.

“I wasn’t expecting to be here either.”

The orange Twi’lek is sitting at his workstation, goggles pulled back up to his lekku, as he looks at Anakin with white bioptic eyes. 

He snorts. 

“That’s clear,” he says. Adding on with a sardonic smile. “From what I’ve been seeing, Jedi is starting to be synonymous with scum.” 

Anakin stiffened his jaw. “Unfortunately.”

No’nira just shook his head. 

“Shit luck. Welcome to the club, Skywalker,” he jerks his chin, gesturing to the chair across the table from him. “Now sit.”

Anakin hesitates before plopping down.

No’nira observes him carefully, before setting down his torch he had been fiddling with.

“What they’re saying on the news,” He jerks his eyes to the tv he had mounted on a bunch of boxes in the corner, the reporters muted, but the newsreel spitting out information. “Not true, is it?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Guessed that. Hate being right. Alright. Whatcha need?”

Anakin always liked that about him.

“New idents for this list,” He pulls out a flimsi with the basic demographics of him and his kids. No’nira takes the list, eyes flashing over it, humming to himself, pausing as his eyes skitter over the ages. “Plus, a scrub for a ship when I... acquire one.”

The Twi’lek has to take a steadying breath. Looking up into Anakin’s eyes. He can feel that acceptance, horrified acceptance of the man in front of him. Kids. They’re just kids, he wants to say, but he keeps quiet and the Twi’lek gets himself under control.

“Seven idents and a ship's log, got it, that all?

“The usual client privileges.”

No’nira coughs a laugh, it sounds like a hacking laugh. 

“No shit. Yeah, yeah, your names safe with me, Skywalker,” Then he drums his finger against the flimsi. “Theirs too.”

Without any warning the man drops his goggles down and turns the torch on.

“Usual price still applies. Meet me back here in a cycle, I’ll have everything set, except the ship scrub.”

Anakin wishes the rest of the galaxy was so easy to deal with.

* * *

Gungi is the one who figures it out first. They all required a lot of meditation to get it, trips outside to sit with the wind ruffling their clothes, and hands on learning. But eventually: success.

None of the other children even notice, either, when Gungi disappears in the Force. 

“This is so hard!” Byph complains.

“Shut up,” Petro snaps, eyes blinking open to glare at him. “I almost had it!”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did!”

Anakin turns to Gungi, watching as he looks down at himself, with a screwed up expression. He disappears, little by little, kind of like sand building a wall. When the young Wookiee turns towards him, he gives him a very subtle thumbs up and a wink, mouthing, “Good job.”

Gungi lights right up, and carefully settles himself down, silent and quiet, into the corner to wait.

“It’s too hard! None of us are ever going to figure it out!”

Anakin rolls his eyes. Sometimes the children could be so dramatic.

“One of you has figured it out," he helpfully nudges them.

Which meant the young females of the group figure it out first because they were listening to him and not the bickering around them.

“Where’s Gungi?” Katooni demands.

From there... it gets easier. By the end of the solar cycle all of the children have it. With Gungi helping, and then joined by Byph. Since they were aware of each other’s shortcomings, having been raised together, they could teach each other better than Anakin could ever hope to try.

Either way, he’s stupidly proud of them all disappearing into the Force.

Then he realizes that all of their bonds are muted, too. Silent. A warning in that all but loud and jarring. He’s tense until they come back into visibility, laughing and joyfully needling each other at the new trick, and all he can think is:

_ Oh. Oh no. _

* * *

“You need to start bringing one of us with you,” Katooni demands the next day, a whole week into this fucked up life of theirs, after they all had gotten used to cloaking themselves. Much to Anakin’s chagrin and heart-attack prone self.

“Oh yeah?” Anakin asks, blinking at her boldness, not sure why he was so surprised. “Why’s that?”

“Because we need to learn.”

Well. Alright. They were right.

He looks over all of the children. The kids had this kind of way that they sit when they want something. In a little line, on their knees, with their hands politely folded in front of them, ghee-wouldn’t-melt-in-their-mouths expressions. He wondered, with amusement, if their creche Master had let them get away with it. 

It’s quite effective.

He sits down on the ground in front of them. Waits. Seeing if they would crack. 

Unsurprisingly none do.

“Alright. Fine. Say I agree. How are we deciding who goes?”

They have an answer. Petro pipes up. 

“We’ll rotate by a set order.”

“Then who is first?”

“ _ Me _ !” Gungi says, raising his hand. 

“What’s the order after?”

Katooni takes charge. “Gungi, me, Petro, Byph, Zatt, and then Merium. Then we start over.”

Anakin drums his fingers against his thigh. It isn’t a bad plan. He actually agrees with it, but he knows that he needs more rules. If there were no rules they would run all over him. As shown by what they ate. He has very little control of the actual finances where food was involved.

“I get veto power.” Anakin warns them, agreeing without saying the words.

“Yes!” Petro cheers, while Katooni smirked and said. “Of course.”

_ “Where are we going today, Master?”  _ Anakin gives him a pointed look and the Wookiee immediately corrects himself.  _ “Vrol.” _

“We’re going to go look at ships.”

The Wookiee grins.

* * *

Anakin loves all of the nubian style ships. They’re fast, with sleek lines and controls that could turn on a dime. He knows that to take that chance was to court death. They are the best in personal comfort, but not the best at being inconspicuous. Plus, they aren’t very spacious in actual cargo space. Dumb decision all around.

He still mourns walking past them without taking a second look.

In the end it’s between two ships that were basically a smuggler’s wet dreams in specs. 

A VCX-100 light freighter, which is a behemoth, but had a lot of potential, and an unmodified YT-1300f, which is a gold mine. They both could be easily modified for defense, and with six younglings he could teach to help him run the ship, it would be no problem. They each had about the same amount of square meterage, with the freighter coming out just slightly on top.

But the YT-1300f had a lot more potential for ‘hidey holes’ as Gungi had pointed out. Also being not a freighter he would probably be stopped and questioned less. Which was also very attractive to Anakin. 

“So,” The Klatooinian Ship Owner asks. “Want Bertha or Slip?”

Anakin raises a brow. “Slip?”

The Klatooinian smirks. “Little slip of a ship. Slip.”

Gungi and Anakin share a look. It’s not a small ship. Nor is the other ship huge. But, they were small in size compared to Destroyers.

“What are the controls like?”

“Eh,” The Klatooinian shrugs. “Bertha moves slow and steady, but Slip has some real potential.”

“I can see that.” Anakin taps the datapad, pulling up the specs to go over them again. “What do you think, Gungi?”

The Wookiee jolts. Looking at him with wide eyes.  _ “Me?” _

“Yes. I want to hear your thoughts.”

The Wookiee is surprised at the question but quickly grew thoughtful. Turning his head towards both ships and looking them over. He reaches a hand out, too, and lays it on the side of the ship titled ‘Bertha’. Then he makes his way over to the other ship. He bows his head afterwards, thinking. Good. He is taking it seriously.

_ “This one.”  _ Gungi declares, as he points to the flatter ship.

Anakin is amused. Clearly he had felt something, instead of going by merit, like Anakin had. Anakin understands the mechanics better than anyone and Gungi knew he couldn’t be better than that. So he had gone by feel of the Force.

It is a good decision.

“We’ll take Slip.”

Gungi glows with pride.

* * *

The ship owner wants to look over their ship first, inside and out. It is a standard practice and Anakin has no problem with that. What he did have problems with was the man seeing the kids. The humans could be explained away, but the others who obviously shared no lineage with him? No. Not happening. 

It's an easy solution: tell the kids to scram for an hour. Warning the children to get lost for a little while was easy. They had gotten better at using the comm to indicate important information through code. So Anakin and Gungi and their guest arrive to an empty ship.

Then the haggling starts.

It takes about half an hour, all told. Mostly because it had to. Any time less than that and Anakin would assume that the ship owner was trying to trick them or sell them an inferior product. Any more and he would be under suspicion of waiting, and waiting served no one. As it is, he feels much better after the price is set and the ship titles exchanged hands.

Gungi and Anakin spend the time moving their supplies between the ship as efficiently as possible. They have very little, but they still have some. The new ship has a lot of space, which makes it ideal for smuggling and cargo runs, but it looks pretty pitiful with just their small scattering of personal objects and supplies in the hold. 

It is theirs, though.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the Klatooinian says before setting off in the old shuttle.

Anakin watches the ship that used to belong to Obi-Wan take off. He held no attachment to the ship itself, but he and his Master had certainly attempted many feats of stupidity and diplomacy within its haul. The memories in its haul had haunted him the entire time they had been on the run. It is bittersweet to see it fly away from him.

Katooni pops out of nowhere, to his left, as the ship left. “Safe to come out?”

Anakin waits until the ship was no more than a speck in the sky. Watching one of Obi-Wan’s possessions disappear leaves him a little off kilter, unbecoming of a Jedi, but he could no more help it than he could look away. It isn’t the first time he’s learned about attachments and letting go, but this surely didn’t hurt as much as death. 

“Yes. It’s safe.”

And it is.

* * *

They leave the next day with new idents and a new ship. Anonymous to the galaxy at large, yet in just as precarious of a situation as always.

Fortunately, they are Jedi.

Jedi survive, no matter what.

* * *

With a ship chosen, the kids all with new idents, and his little monsters all proficient at hiding successfully in the Force, Anakin feels much better about their escape through the galaxy. They are still lacking direction, but they feel safer. It wasn’t until he is faced with the fact that the Jedi were being hunted down and killed that it all collapses around him.

They had hopped over to the world of Malastare to refuel and pick up supplies when it happened.

“It’s  _ General Skywalker, _ ” 

He hears a whisper that carries across from one end of the market to the other. He had trained too hard and too long to physically react in surprise, even though he was surprised. He curses his luck, realizing he had been too comfortable and had not pulled up his face scarf after it had fallen under his chin.

“Holy crap, isn’t he supposed to be... like... one of the good ones?”

“We still need to call it in! He’s a Jedi!”

“Well. Alright.”

Anakin turns to Byph, who is the child on rotation for the day. Luckily, the Ithorian had heard too. Already on the same page, Byph blinks carefully, before threading his fingers in between Anakin’s human ones and tugging him forward.

“Look!" he says, childishly, which was at odds with how he usually talked. “Let’s get it!”

Anakin transmits along the bond a desperate need to get out of dodge. Who knew how fast this Empire could scramble a response?

Byph hears it and drags him to look at a bobble, which was conveniently located next to an alley. With both of them on the same page, ducked into the alley before making their way back to the ship. Still holding hands, Anakin pulls up his new communication device and sends off the signal. Four clicks. A wait. Four clicks. A wait. One click. The first two clicks were to get attention, and the last set of clicks were the most telling. One meant they had been spotted as Jedi. Two meant they were being chased. Three meant they had been separated. Four meant the children needed to hide within the ship, in their designated hidey holes. Five meant take the ship and run before it was too late. 

Then he smashes the little device into a wall and they weave their way between people, down alleys, and generally making a nuisance of themselves as they make their way back to the ship port. On the way Byph is slowly but surely hiding himself in the Force. It’s cute, but also entirely useless right now.

They had been spotted by non-force sensitives. Their eyes were good just once.

Byph was taking it all in stride, which Anakin was thankful for. The last thing he needed was dead weight.

“Vrol, how much danger are we in?”

Anakin sighs. 

“I don’t know.”

They don’t speak as they move.

They made it back to the ship, where Gungi and Katooni are already warming the engine up.

“What happened?” They all ask as Anakin slips into the seat.

“We were spotted.”

All the fun loving energy that Anakin had gotten used to seeing of the children was carefully hidden as they all became serious, dark shadows. Scared and tense. It was making Anakin itchy. Wanting to tear apart some people and shove his lightsaber down some throats.

“Seats." he tells them, getting them off the ground. They all obey.

He had just exited the atmosphere when a Star Destroyer appears before them. That was quick. Really, really quick. Worse. He knows the ship. It had once belonged to Kit Fisto. He is surely dead, Anakin knows this, but he feels nauseated all the same. Salt in the wounds.

“Kriff," he snarls as he begins to throw all the switches, hits all the necessary buttons to finish setting up hyperdrive travel. The ship is already being hailed and he ignores it, even as Clone voices come over, telling him to halt. He has precious few seconds, seconds that would make or break them.

He already knows the next time they were spotted he was going to be sending back four clicks. 

_ Get out of dodge without them. _

Clearly the Jedi were still priority one of this new empire.

With seconds to spare, they escape.

Everyone is quiet for the next half an hour as their heart rates settle and they make peace with how close they had come to death. Or worse, capture. Anakin is already planning their next stop. Their next hop. With the Empire knowing their location, they have precious few options. 

_ “- Master Skywalker?” _

Anakin visibly flinches as he looks to Gungi, forgetting for a second he had been there the entire time.

“Don’t use my name, Gungi,”

_ “You weren’t answering to Vrol.” _

Oh. Had he not?

“Sorry.” And he is.

_ “It’s okay... It was bound to happen sometime, but..." he _ seemed to be weighing his words.  _ “You need a better disguise.” _

He really, really does.

* * *

It was the conversation of their next meal together. Anakin had managed to hide them behind an asteroid field, hoping that would give them some time to bypass the hyperlane entirely and jump to the nearby Cerean Reach. It would be about a three day trip by normal speed, highly dangerous and likely to be packed with pirates, but he was sure the Empire would never think it of them. Which is why it would work.

“Why not a suit?” Zatt says, throwing his balled up wrapper at Merium. Who swats it innocently back with the Force.

“A suit?” Anakin frowns, looking over to the closet where Obi-Wan’s discarded pieces are.

He hasn’t thought of that... A mask, sure, but a suit is more. It is a real way to hide himself.

“Yeah! Like a proper bounty hunter.” 

Anakin blinks at that.

They aren’t wrong, he considers. The nearest planet off the hyperlane they are heading towards is Cerea. He thinks he remembers where the local smith is. Which is surprising. He doesn’t know a lot of them, but when hunting down bounty hunters or all manner of scum in the galaxy it's a good thing to know.

He is now that kind of villainy and scum. He has to shake his head at the irony.

As he’s plotting the course, only needing minor tweaks the kids get excited. They start to talk about their favorite bounty hunters. How their suits fit them, fit their personalities. The way the helmets were designed. Katoonie already had gotten out some flimsi and was sketching something out. 

So fucking talented.

It takes them three days, after all, to get through normal space. Three days of Anakin biting his nails and trying not to have a flipping heart attack at every large asteroid that comes their way, hoping it doesn’t hide a pirate ready to jump them.

The kids are amazing.

They train. They spar. The larger ship makes it easier to live together. Seven people in one ship was always hard, but this was easier when they all had places around the ship and hull to call their own. Not enough rooms, everyone has to share, but enough space for privacy. And even without the rooms, there are plenty of places to hole out.

Together the kids survive and thrive.

He looks at them and sees their potential. Their abilities. He sees them for what they are and how they are and he is struck by an amount of grief that is sickening. Out there, out there in the galaxy, before the Jedi Purge, their future-Master’s had died. 

He is all they have now.

“We’ve got it!” Katooni announces on the fourth day, when Anakin was finally adjusting for hyperlane travel, sure that they were safe for at least a little while.

“Oh?” 

Then a flimsi is shoved in front of his face and the viewport and he is forced to take a moment to look at it. And stare. Blinking as he realizes it was more than one sheet.

“This is the helmet. This is the leg pieces. This is the chest,” Katooni helpfully points out to each part. “Some of the things that need to be added, weapons and the like.”

Wow.

It’s a full body armor set. From the helmet down to the boots. He’s completely unsurprised to see elements of the Mandalorian armor. He had told her to steer far, far away from Clone design but the next best armor in the galaxy is Mandalorian. It is clear she had listened. Gungi’s comment over a Mandlorian name had struck them deep. The cuts, the lines, as well as some of the weapons all scream warrior. There are hidden sections all over it, some compartments small, others large enough for a lightsaber, like by the right calf. Katooni has thought of damn near everything.

“You’ve outdone yourself," he tells her. She blushes in pride, ducking her head as she smiles. 

“You like it?”

“I love it.”

He points to the helmet. It is... Ferocious. It had some of the same line-planes as Mandalorian but sleeker. The visor is black and shaded, with a more curved chin. Kind of reminded him of a jutting mouth, or muzzle, yet it did not have any organic feel to it. It is a striking design.

“Do I get a say in this?" he asks, no small amount of humor in his tone.

Six little voices pipe right on back.

“Nope!”

Alrighty then.

* * *

The empire does not follow them. 

Even still, Anakin is still on edge, but the Empire is nowhere to be seen. The communication field, especially old Republic channels, are filled with Imperial chatter. The news is nothing but propaganda. Yet, they are not hailed, they are not chased, they are... left alone.

Still. Anakin knows of at least one world that has never cared for political shit and it wasn’t about to start now.

Takodana. It’s a little farther down this particular hyperlane, another day of travel, really, but then it’s free sailing. It’s a haven for smugglers and spies and has always been the perfect place for finding allies. Jedi allies that were just happy to help whenever they could, mostly because they had either been saved or knew someone who had been saved by a Jedi.

Something that was going to be in short supply soon and Anakin is going to use it mercilessly while he can.

Unfortunately, that means a whole day, possibly three, in a ship with no chance to get out. 

Which means training.

Which means kids getting cabin fever. 

Which means a lot of down time with a lot more prep needed.

Anakin settles himself down in a lotus on the floor and all of the children stop talking and plop themselves down with him.

“What are we learning today?” Petro asks.

“Am I so transparent?” 

“You only sit if we’re eating or if you’re teaching. Since food isn’t for another few hours...”

Smarty pants. Anakin shakes his head. 

“What do you guys know about the mind?”

Excitedly, already forgetting about the danger just around the corner, the Empire stalking them in the dark, the kids all tell him exactly what they know.

* * *

They make it to Takodana unmolested.

All that is left is to actually go and meet the smith.

The smith is an ancient beselisk, Ordurn, who Anakin and Obi-Wan had once helped out years ago. Anakin is pretty sure his favor is still good, but can’t be positive. So he leaves the kids behind, except Katooni, and makes sure they all know that if he signals, they are to run, run and don’t look back. The meeting point a few hundred lightyears away.

They enter into the forge, hearing the sounds of clanging, flames being stoked, and the city trying to intrude even though the thick smog and noise. The beselisk is turned away from them, working at a station, hammering out a piece of armor. 

“Ordurn.” Anakin greets, not bothering to throw his voice. “If that is still what you go by?”

The beselisk stiffens at his forge, hammer hanging in the air. “It might be, if Skywalker is still what you go by.”

He turns, eyeing the Jedi up, before his eyes dart to Katooni, soften a fraction, and Anakin knew he would help. Could see it in his shoulders. Ordurn softens right up as he notices the small human. See it in the way the ancient beselisk twitches his gaze to Anakin. As if to ask ‘a child?’.

He lets the silence hover between them. Not uncomfortable, but not strained.

“Speak.”

“I need to cash in on that favor you owe me and my Master.” 

Anakin took the flimsi from Katooni.

Ordurn took it from him. Silently looking it over. Leafing through the flimsi, eyes narrowing, as he hummed.

“This ain’t gonna be cheap,”

No. It would not.

“It’s gotta be perfect.” Katooni butts in. It doesn’t take her long, either, to start explaining her sketches.

Katooni outlines everything Anakin would need. The kids had gone all out in the design. Sensors in the helmet and armor platings. Made for mobility, not so much for durability. The helmet is a rather striking design, too, and he doesn’t know which kid decided on it, but it reminds him of a sleek beetle.

Katooni straightens up, proper Jedi posture and learning coming in hot, as she tells him plainly. “Money is no object. Only the best for my brother.”

It’s still a thrill. Hearing someone call him so intimately. Brother. Sibling. Another thing all the kids had agreed on unanimously. He wasn’t their Master, he was their guardian, their protector.

And there are no Jedi left, so they couldn’t be Padawans.

Ordurn turns to Anakin, quirking a brow.

It’s not like it’s a secret. The current idea the galaxy is laboring under, that the Jedi are evil and to be killed on sight. And Ordurn knows Anakin. Knows Obi-Wan. He knows them only as Jedi. Yet, a favor is owed and beselisk’s aren’t known for flaking on deals. 

Money is tight. But Anakin stole a good chunk to begin their new lives for a reason.

Anakin shrugs.

“Price isn’t important.”

Ordurn looks at him, weighing him, trying to decide if he believes him. Anakin and Obi-Wan had saved him, but that didn’t necessarily mean that they were honest. Cornered, frightened people could do unspeakable things. Paying nothing for a suit of armor that was a piece of art wouldn’t be out of their wheelhouse.

“Take me a week,” Ordurn grunts. “Minimum. Half payment now, quarter at first fiting, last at end.”

Reasonable.

“Price?”

The Besselisk names a number that Anakin has only heard in association with ship engines.  _ Damn. That’s... That’s probably about right for the kind of machinery they want in the suit. _ He smirks under his wrap. It crinkles his eyes and he knows Ordurn sees it.

“Let’s negotiate the equipment,” Anakin states, firmly. 

It took an hour. They go over every inch, every detail, sparing no expense. They go over all the bits and pieces, all the technology and all the pieces needed for the full suit. It’s not a small amount. The helmet visor is the most sophisticated piece of equipment in the whole thing, but it also connects to the gauntlets and the vambrace and the thigh pieces to the grieve.

“Agreed?” Ordurn is much more relaxed, in better humor. This would be a good pay day for him. And a challenge.

And the favor he owed would finally be paid.

It would be a good day.

“Agreed.”

* * *

“We should start looking for work for you.” Byph states, turning to Anakin, after Katooni stops talking. Katooni had not spared a second after returning to the ship before she told all the children how it had gone, while Anakin unwraps and plops into the one of the deck chairs, listening, adding in his two cents. 

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Byph adds firmly. “But we’ve got to decide on one more thing.”

This is news to Anakin. He is already getting armor. Already has a name. They even have a routine. Curious, he leans forward, until his elbows are on his knees, closer to them. Seeing they had his attention, byph quickly explains.

“Well. You see, brother, you can’t go around with your old name. Or your new name. It’s too conspicuous. We hafta come up with a better one. A moniker for your bounty hunting.”

Anakin blinks thoughtfully. 

So. Not wrong at all. 

“I see you’ve been considering this for a while,” However long ‘a while even’ was with three days under their belt. “Any ideas?”

The kids all love to be included in plans. Anakin has learned that lesson well with Ahsoka. They bloom and they chatter, throwing suggestions back and forth rapid fire. None of them smile, firm little frowns on their faces, but they light up in the Force. So excited, but contained. Trained, as the Jedi are, to be perfect little Padawans.

“Something powerful.”

“Something that has nothing to do with Master Skywalker's real name.”

“Quick!”

“Light on his feet, but not cowardly.”

“Competent, but not arrogant.”

“Just a dash of silly, too! Can’t forget the levity. Then his clients know he is a human behind the mask.”

“Do we even want them to know he’s  _ anything  _ behind the mask?

They are so young but so old, as well. Old souls trapped in bodies much too young. Even as they have a bright moment of fun, at any second the crushing knowledge that they know every second of their lives are at risk could come back. 

“The Crusher!”

“Ew, too masculine.” 

“And rough.”

“He needs to appear fluid!”

“We’re not going with the Jedi, peacekeeping kind of fluid here. He needs to strike fear into his opponents.”

“That will come, with time!”

“Angel of Death.”

Everyone is silent as they look at Zatt. That is... dark. He would have to spend some more time with the kid to make sure he isn’t too terribly trapped in his head. That wouldn’t do for any of them. 

“What about Aaray?”

_ Pain _ .

This time the silence is contemplative. Anakin stares at the children and realizes that it was Mando’a. The kids were- 

“Where did you guys learn that?" he demands.

A moment of silence, a moment of pain, then truth.

Zatt spoke. “There were Clones that hung out in the temple, too, ya know...”

Anakin felt his heart clench all over again. How could he forget? The same place the kids had learned the mandalorian language, so had he. But they had learned it in fun, where he had learned it in combat. The Clones had once been their guardians, and had delighted in sharing all they had been taught by their Mandalorian trainers with the young Jedi.

“Let’s let the galaxy name me,” Anakin decides, pulling the nearest youngling, byph into a hug. “You all have done enough.”

None of them argue that point, but he knows they want to.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The suit! We get to see the suit! AHhhh! It's so cool looking too ;)

They have three days until his next fitting, and then two more until the armor is done. Which is to say they have time.

He uses this time to test the kids.

After dinner, when Katooni has exhausted herself telling them all manner of things about Odurn, or her sketches, or the modifications, or how Anakin had reacted to it all, Anakin asks them what they want to do.

There is silence as they all think. It’s not unusual for them to remain quiet for a long period of time. Thinking he is testing them. Weighing them, finding them worthy. He tries to free them from that, tries to show them he doesn’t care about that, doesn’t care about finding them anything other than safe, but they are resistant.

“This planet isn’t exactly a safe one...” Katooni begins, making Anakin want to chuckle.

“It is not.” Anakin agrees, readily, keeping himself open, transparent.

“Could we - “ Merium quickly shuts her mouth, all the kids looking at her, as if she was about to tell a secret. She looks around their small circle, the Force around them is a frantic-pleased mess, before she squares her shoulders. She hadn’t had a pirate adventure to bolster her confidence, like the rest of them, but she’s strong. “Can we explore?”

“Well I don’t see - “

“By ourselves.” Merium interrupted Anakin. “With each other.” 

A hesitation.

“... Just each other.”

Anakin blinks. Blinks again. Opens his mouth to say something rash, something on the tip of his tongue, but holds it. Frowning he looks down at his knees as he rolls the thought around his mind.

On one hand: it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. 

They had much safer planets they could have attempted this on. Attempted going out two-by-two, seeing the world on their own, sans Master or brother. It makes his chest tight to contemplate it, but he tries to release that into the Force. Let worry turn into understanding.

On the other hand: they are strong kids. Anakin, at their age, had been able to haggle, communicate with adults, and survive all before the age of seven. These kids are temple raised, temple strong, book learned, but oh so very fragile. 

But they had already done this before, he tries to remind himself. With Hondo. The worst kind of person to teach them how to be people.

Anakin breathes in. Breathes out. 

“Okay.”

* * *

Katooni and Petro, Merium and byph, Zatt and Gungi. Those are the pairs. 

“Communicators?”

“Check.”

“Rendezvous point if you get lost?”

“The big spiral statue.”

“Maps?”

“We’ve got this, Vrol.”

He makes them take nothing but their communicators, knowing there is no way that they will be able to escape pick-pockets, even strong in the Force as they may be. Some of those thieves are just as strong in the Force, untrained as they are, but desperation makes an adequate shield. Or even just a very, very strong mind who demands to be unnoticed.

He’s trained them in a variety of skills that could be tested today. Cloaking. Misdirection of the mind. How to stab people with the vibro-blade they hide in their boots and up their sleeves. He hopes they aren’t going to use them, or if they are, it won’t be out of necessity but simply to get better.

It’s been almost two weeks and this is the first time he’s let the kids out of his sight, allowing them to walk away.

Breath in. Breath out.

They watch him, as if they aren’t sure he’s really letting them do this, but he just nods at them. Smiles. Assures them without words, because he really isn’t sure of the words to say.

“We’ll be back by three.” Katooni promises.

“Good. I’ll have lunch ready.”

Then they are gone.

* * *

Anakin busies himself for all of five minutes before he really lets himself reach toward their bonds.

Content. Excited. A little terrified, too, but just the right amount. Not fear for lives, but honest fear. Wonder. All wrapped up in a tense worry. 

His lips twitch. He can almost hear their thoughts.

_Am I doing this right? Am I making the right choice? Should I go left or right? Didn’t I see Anakin do this?_

They are only going to be gone for two hours, at the most, but Anakin has never been good at waiting. Nor was he ever going to let them be out on their own without his supervision.

He had taught the kids what he knows, and now he wants to see them using it.

He locks the ship up tight. The alarm on it will warn him if anyone gets near or tries to open it, but he’s not worried.

Up on the rooftops, footsteps lightened by the Force, cloaked, he’s nothing but a phantom. 

He finds Gungi and Zatt first. The Wookiee is easiest to find in a crowd, because he’s the tallest, the easiest to see. Zatt is at some stall, chatting to one of the humans, while Gungi is watching the alley curiously. They feel fine to his senses, but he stays to watch, for just a few minutes.

Zatt isn’t as aware of his person as he probably should be, but Gungi is watchful enough for the both of them. When Anakin spots a pickpocket from the roof, Gungi sees him only a short minute later.

It's a relief and Anakin leaves them to it. 

Finding the other’s isn’t hard, either. Only thirty minutes meant they couldn’t have gotten far. Merium and Byph are next. Somehow he’s not surprised by what they are doing. They’ve managed to find a street performer, both watching as the man plays a long instrument with strings. Their guard is pretty low, considering, but both had their backs to a wall, so Anakin isn’t too peeved. He watches them a little longer than Gungi and Zatt, because they are a little more... spacey. Not nearly as watchful.

He doesn’t want to leave them, but they haven’t done anything life threatening. Nor is anyone around them eyeing them up.

Plus, he’s getting some interesting feelings from Petro’s side of the bond —hesitant trust, a little more worried than Katooni, and a lot more frantic energy — and he’s getting a little antsy to find them.

 _Six kids is exhausting,_ he finally decides, turning away from those two in search of the others.

* * *

He hates being right.

Katooni is arguing with a pretty scruffy individual while Petro stands at her back, spine stiff, staring the man down. Anakin has to lean over the side of the building to hear what is being said.

“I’m just saying. You’re being rude.” Katooni tells him, while the man glowers at her. 

“And I’m saying you should take it as a compliment.”

Anakin feels a flash of hot anger roil in his stomach. His fingers tighten on the top of the rooftop, as he looked for the easiest, the fastest, way down.

“Anyone else woulda appreciated a job offer is all I’m saying.”

Anakin’s mouth drops. _Did the man really just - ? Oh hell no._

“Well, no thank you,” Katooni tells him. “I told you, we don’t run.”

 _Run? Like a runner? For drugs?_ Anakin’s anger pops like a rather full bubble. _Well. That isn’t so bad._

When Anakin had been a kid, he’d had numerous job offers from the Hutts and their men. Usually he just told him he was forbidden by his Master and that would clear them up, but the job offers still came. He probably would have accepted one day, had it not been for the Jedi.

He has to stifle a laugh into his arm as he dropped back down to watch.

The man stalks off, growling something about ‘snot nosed kids’ as Katooni and Petro watch him go. Then the kids both turn away, walking off, chatting about ‘the nerve of that guy’ and ‘can you believe it?’.

Anakin shakes his head and gets up to return to the ship. He is still worried, and he doesn’t think that’s going to stop anytime soon, but he can at least see they aren’t airheads when not around him.

That’s something, at least.

* * *

When he visits Ordurn for the fitting, it’s with Zatt in tow, the order of kids never erring from the set schedule so long ago.

“Ah! Vrol!” Ordurn greets him, quick on the new name and bright, happy in the Force. “You are right on time, yes yes, come. And take off your outerwear, need measurements, and those will never do over all those layers!”

Anakin raises a brow, before he complies, following Ordurn as the besalisk starts bringing the pieces of armor towards him.

Zatt looks around with big eyes, both watchful and mesmerized. Anakin does so enjoy each individual moment he gets with these kids. Getting to know them, how they react to the world, how they interact with everyone else. It’s telling.

Then Anakin sees the armor and he blanches. Just a little.

“This is... a lot of pieces.” 

Even during the war, his armor hadn’t been this involved.

Ordurn just smiles. 

“They are all taken apart for the moment,” he brings out a box full of leather stripes of various widths and lengths. “Need your measurements for the exact fit, yes, yes.”

Still. Anakin eyes all the pieces. He’s going to have to clean it, keep it, repair it, do all the little maintenance that a suit of armor needs. He knows he will, because he remembers the Clones. He feels a pang in his heart as he remembers watching Rex suit up, remembers how Waxer and Boil had ribbed him and Obi-Wan about how little armor they wore. Armor to a Clone was not something to take lightly. The memories come, even as the armor before him is black, not white; even as the bright smith is a besalisk and not a Clone brother, waiting patiently for his attention; even as the world turns, and he knows he has somehow failed his Clones worse than they’ve failed him. 

He closes his eyes, briefly, offers up his turbulent emotions to the Force, and says. _I’m sorry._

“Well then, let’s get started, shall we?”

* * *

The kids go out every day after that. In twos or threes, but never all at the same time. The next time, Anakin gives them missions. Whether it’s to get takeout, or to follow someone from their house as they did chores, or to find the local governing body; he keeps it simple. 

It’s reminiscent of how Obi-Wan had trained him. Just enough rope to hang himself, he always said. 

Anakin is now intimately aware of just how little rope the kids need to get in trouble.

He feels them returning before he sees them. He, Byph, and Zatt are outside the ship, doing some basic maintenance to the hull, basic proofing to keep it from leaking in the atmosphere, when Anakin gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Merium coming out of the ship is just the _likii_ on top, because she is the most intune with the living Force of the kids, and that’s all Anakin needs to know that something’s gone wrong.

Gungi, Petro, and Katooni had left.

Gungi and Katooni are the only ones returning. At a sprint.

“Stay,” Anakin tells the children with him, before he meets the other’s halfway. “What happened?”

Gungi and Petro both start talking, breathless and stumbling over each other.

“Katooni - _gasp_ \- didn’t listen-” 

“ _She refused to listen!_ ”

“We found a mech-oid den!”

_“We weren’t gonna go anything, honest!”_

“But Katooni - “

_“Katooni wouldn’t listen and she went in!”_

“Slow down, slow down,” Anakin demands, hands held up to fend off their frantic words and panic. “Just one of you. Tell me what happened to Katooni.”

Gungi and Petro exchange a look. 

It was Gungi who spoke. 

_“We found a mechoid den and Katooni went in and she didn’t come back out!”_

Anakin pauses. He isn’t sure what the hell a mechoid den was, but obviously it doesn’t matter.

He points at Petro. “You, stay here,” Then he grabs Gungi by his shoulder. “You, lead. Everyone else,” He waves his hand behind himself. “Stay!”

Then he and Gungi take off at a run. 

“Where are we going?”

Gungi points. _“Not far, just around the corner. Probably why she thought it was safe.”_

“Okay, what’s a mechoid den?” Anakin still isn’t sure how he doesn’t know but the kids did.

_“It’s uh, it’s a place where the mechs go to charge? But it’s not for maintenance droids, not mouse droids, but it’s used for - “_

Anakin got the picture. The kids must have made the word up.

“Assassin droids. Protocol droids. The kinds of droids that aren’t civilian friendly, got it. Wonderful,” he groans, as Gungi pulls up to a stop outside an opening and closing door. 

How did kids manage to stick their hands into the _spira_ nest every single time? It was impressive.

“Okay, stay here.” Anakin tells Gungi, already searching the Force. With droids and mech beings there is no presence to them, they are just nothing. Hard to understand in the Force. It had made the whole fucking war a nightmare of epic proportions.

_“But I can help - “_

“No, you’re just going to get in the way,” Anakin snaps.

Gungi bows his head, hurt, and Anakin can’t help but blow out a harsh breath. “That’s not how I meant it, but I’m going to be searching with the Force. You next to me will just distract me if Katooni is in danger, okay?”

_“Yes, Vrol,”_

“Good,” He pats his shoulder once. “Thank you for your quick thinking. Hopefully she’s not in too much danger,”

Then he is off before Gungi can continue to stop him.

He makes it about twenty meters inside before he can get a better handle on where Katooni is. She’s to the right, and he bounds after her, following the scent so to speak. The closer he jogs, the more he feels. The more baffled he becomes, too.

 _What was that?_ He thinks to himself as he pulls to a stop right outside a room that is brightly lit. 

“Katooni?” He whispers, his voice echoing off the walls.

“... Vrol?” She doesn’t sound hurt or frightened, and now that Anakin is close, he can tell she’s not under any duress, either.

So Anakin takes the plunge. 

Only to come face to face with Katooni and a droid that is the same size as her. A DUM-series pit droid. He hadn’t seen one of this particular model in years, not since he was a kid on Tatooine. 

He immediately relaxes. DUM droids could be dangerous, but there were better droids to make modifications to.

“Katooni, you can’t just separate from the group,” He scolds. 

“They could have come, too,” Katooni defends. “I wasn’t in any danger.”

Anakin drops his face into his hands, rubbing his temples. 

“They were worried. For you. They came and told me what happened and I was worried too.” 

Katooni just shrugs. “TUC-4C wouldn’t have hurt me. And he just needed a little bit of help.”

The little droid, TUC-4C, cocked it’s oblong shaped head and whirl-twitters at Anakin. It makes him miss R2 desperately, but he pushes that away as he crouches to level with the droid.

“What kind of help?”

Katooni smiles and holds out her hand to the little droid, which twittered but gave up its own hand. “He was just having some power troubles.” She says, as she turns over the little hand and shows the claw to be sparking. “I wanted to help him.”

“Hmmm.” Anakin takes the hand and pulls out his handy little spark-tool he keeps on hand for repairs like these. “You still should have told Gungi and Petro. What’s the first rule Katooni?”

She deflates a little. “Don’t go anywhere alone.”

“The rule is there for a reason, alright?” He tells her as he fixes the sparking joint. It goes quietly back into some semblance of ‘normal’ and the little droid twirl-twitches, a clear thank-you.

Anakin smiles at it. “You’re welcome.”

Then the little droid runs off, happy as can be, while Anakin looks to Katooni.

“Come on. It seems we need to go over the security lesson again,”

She sighs, but nods. “Yes, Vrol.”

* * *

He goes by himself to pick up the armor after the excitement. The Force is tight around him, not a warning, but aware. Anakin can’t even tell if it’s because he’s wired tighter than a droid off the assembly line. 

The kids stay back at the ship, because Anakin is a paranoid bastard and if they need to leave, they will have to do it without him. If they have been betrayed, it will be up to them to escape. Anakin can’t, won’t, put their lives in danger just because this is the best way to protect his identity.

He enters into the Forge and sees Ordurn himself, sitting at a table, going through a pad, a lumpy cloth taking up the vast majority of the table next to him, and he looks up when Anakin draws closer. 

The besalisk smiles big and bright.

“Ah! You are here! Come, come!” he exclaims, all happy energy in the Force, as he got up. “This one was tricky, but Ordurn knows what to do, yes, yes I think this is my best work yet,”

“Glad to hear it,” Anakin says sincerely.

“Only the best for -" he cut himself off, frowning. “Well, your kind.”

He offers up a shrug and smirk, before pulling off a ratty sheet that had been over the lumpy table and -

_Oh._

Anakin’s breath catches in his chest as he looks at the dark, nearly black armor. It isn’t Mandalorian Iron, but it was similar. The iron has interesting whirls and streaks from the forge. There is some kind of synth leather at the clasps, with hardy equipment. It looks remarkably like the sketches and so much better than his fitting a few days ago.

He runs his fingers over the cold metal and feels flashes of Ordurn’s joy as he had worked it. His tenacity as he shaped it. The love he had poured into it. A favor was owed, but Ordurn had needed none of that for his passion. Anakin could feel it in every strike of hammer on iron. Every twist and turn of metal. The man might have done this as a favor, but he had been paid well and was proud of his work.

“Thank you.” Anakin whispers, showing the proper reverence for the piece of art before him.

A large hand drops onto his shoulder. There is no malicious intent and Anakin answers it with none right back. He turns to the besalisk. He is smiling, a sad kind of thing.

“For you, for all you have done for me, this was the least I could do.”

They stay silent for a moment longer as Anakin turns back to look the armor over. 

Every piece is there. Breastplate, armor that would cover his fingertips to his shoulders, shoulder plating, a variety of belts and clasps to keep it all together, thigh and calf holsters, everything with buckles and smooth, supple synth leather.

“Here.”

Anakin stares in awe as Ordurn hands over an under tunic. It’s mish-mash, crisscrossed with the kind of durable, blaster resistant fabric clones used for their blacks, but this was grey. “I didn’t pay for - “

Ordurn just shakes his head.

“For you. A gift.”

Anakin feels the quality of the material. It was heavy, but sturdy. Breathable, so it wouldn’t be too hot. It must have cost a pretty credit.

“Ordurn... I don’t know what to - “

“Say nothing.” Ordurn claps him once on the shoulder, soft for his species. “Stay alive. Keep those children alive.”

Breathing deep he could only promise. “I will.”

In silence, the beslisk helps Anakin learn how to put his armor on. Attach it all right, clasp it in the right areas. It fit like a glove. Snug, but firm. It did not move when it should not, but was flexible when it should be. All the hidden compartments were well hidden, with latches and easy to flip switches. 

Then came the helmet.

Staring into the dark depth, the glint of machinery inside, and a faint red hue, Anakin felt apprehension, foreboding, and excitement. The Force around him is wistful and amused. He isn’t sure why, but he realizes he is stalling. This would be his life. This helmet on his head, unable and unwilling to take it off, protection and cage both.

 _Suck it up._ He tells himself. _Survive._

Then he slips it on and his world is red.

* * *

It takes some getting used to. 

He leaves Ordurn with the last of the credits he owes and walks around the underground. Being of all species, part as he goes through them. People stare. Whispers follow him. He feels well contained and well protected, but there is nothing that could hide the fact that he was in a suit, hidden from the world.

He takes an hour, getting used to the new weight and feel of it all, before returning to the ship.

It is... really quiet.

He blinks behind his helmet, the HUD throwing up environmental warnings. Air Pressure, percentages, warnings, air quality, temperature, and the like. Also heat signatures. He notes that the chairs had been full relatively recently, heat prints behind.

“Kids?" he calls out.

Just like that, the tenseness to the Force is gone. The kids all pop up along his awareness.

“Oh thank the Force -” Merium sighs heavily, dropping her lightsaber back into her own hidden pocket. “It’s you!”

“Sorry!” Petro ducks his head. “We thought you weren’t... you...”

Most of them had never seen the suit in production.

“No, no, good instincts," he praises him. “You did good.”

Then he couldn’t stop them as they all swarm him. Asking questions. Touching the new armor with reverence. Giggling as some of the automatic defenses activated and flared out, harmlessly, since it isn’t loaded. It really was an amazing suit, all things told. He takes the helmet off and it depressurizes as it left his skull.

Gungi giggles, drawing his hand through Anakin’s hair. “ _Helmet hair!_ ”

Anakin felt his cheeks hurt from his smile.


	10. Chapter 10

It hardly feels like it’s been three weeks, but it has. That first week had flown. The second had mostly been filled with escaping and planning and plotting. Then the armor fitting, training the kids, and waiting for his suit to be done. He’s had the suit for almost forty-two hours and is fairly comfortable in it already. Comfortable enough to start looking for work.

It’s on Petabys Station, just outside of orbit of Tokadona, when he meets Tiga.

It takes a day of circulating around the bar circuit, in his new suit, being intimidating and silent. He knows the locals watch him. They observe him. He doesn’t drink, but he takes in the bar around him and that’s enough of a sign to everyone watching that he is here for something different. 

His suit is a story, one that only few would be interested in becoming a part of.

It takes another day for Anakin to feel comfortable enough to entice other beings into conversation. Finally getting the lay of the land. There are many different players in this particular quadrant, he learns. Unfortunately, many of them liked to dip their fingers into multiple pies. Smuggling, assassinations, petty hits, weapons dealing, and the worst of the worst: slavers. Anakin absolutely wants nothing to do with any of the slavers or people who worked for the Hutts. 

Only he finds out that’s basically a dream. 

Any smuggler that is making money is in their pocket. Any captain worth any credits is directly in with some higher sleezmo. If there is a ship that is smuggling, there is some higher in the hierarchy, sleezmo is getting his share.

Like this one. 

It had taken Anakin another day before his contact introduced him to another contact, who introduced him to someone else, who thought they might have a job for him once they heard the scope of his ship and his willingness to turn a blind eye. Which is what brought him here.

“Vrol Oler,” The human in front of him picks at his teeth, staring at where he could only assume Anakin’s eyes were. The man reminds Anakin of a bug. Sharp, dark beetle eyes. Hair coiffed and oily. He’s the kind of scumbag Anakin would have thrown off a cliff and not lost a moment of sleep over during the war.

Still might not.

Only now he needed him. Irony. He was sure the universe was laughing at him.

“Correct.” The vocalizer made him sound far more dangerous than it ought.

“Never heard of you.”

Anakin grits his teeth. Cocking his head to the side. The kids all had told him he is pretty intimidating to look at, especially when he stays silent. So he works the pauses, made them long and unwieldy, and heavy. When the man began to twitch, on the verge of anger, that is when Anakin speaks.

“Could say the same.”

Tiga stops his disgusting licking of his teeth and glares. Before a slow, insidious snarl grows on his face. Anakin could only assume he is trying to smile. He must have had a horrible teacher.

“I suppose we’ll just have to get to know each other.”

An opening for negotiations if there ever is one.

_ Yes,  _ Anakin thought in resignation.  _ We will. _

Anakin stays silent. Katooni and Merium had told him when he is silent, people are more likely to think he is about to kill them, or hurt them, or be generally violent. So. He capitalizes on that. He almost rolls his eyes remembering that conversation. He has survived three years at war but the kids all act like he doesn’t know how to keep himself alive. He will never let them know, but the advice and thoughtfulness punches him in the gut every time. He can’t bring himself to discard it, either.

The human fidgets first, before spitting, a disgusting thing. Still, it isn’t showing weakness, he is just impatient and done with waiting for Anakin to show his own weaknesses. 

“Have any experience?”

“You’ve never heard of me.” Anakin states, as if that is enough. “Nor shall anyone else.”

The human laughs like a braying mammal, before slapping his shoulder jovially.

“You! I like you!”

Anakin says nothing. Which is just a touch too insensitive for the man’s enforcer. The buff twi’lek touches his breastplate with nothing but violent intentions and Anakin reacts the same, on instincts honed through war and blood and battle. Nothing Jedi, not for this. Snapping the enforcers wrist, flipping him over and pinning him to the table made the whole world draw to a stop as he held a vibroblade to the male Twi’lek’s throat.

“No. Touching.”

Everything is silent. Which is impressive considering there had been a live band playing.

Then. A slow, steady clapping starts.

He’s in. For better or for worse, he has proven himself in this.

* * *

He gets the job. 

Tiga thought him to be the best thing since sliced bread after he had broken his enforcer's wrist. The human had seen something with Anakin’s actions that he liked. That he now coveted. Anakin knows the type. Loyalty is a hard thing to buy, but some people still sold it, or allowed themselves to be bought. Anakin knows exactly how Tiga is going to try and buy him. Entice with credits, get him to stay through business meetings, and find an angle to work and make him loyal. 

It’s scumbag one-osk-one. Every scumbag wants loyalty, but getting that loyalty is a hard won fight. 

Anakin knows Tiga is already plotting and planning, trying to figure him out. 

Too bad Anakin isn’t giving anything away. Not a single, solitary thought.

Anakin already knows he isn’t letting the man know he has kids. There is a cruel air to Tiga that makes Anakin worry, over much probably, that he’s not above using hostages and blackmail. It’s safer, Anakin tiredly acknowledges, that Tiga thinks he’s just a lone bastard trying to make his way in the galaxy.

Luckily, the first job is a simple test: a spice run. Not even fully across the galaxy either. Not even touching a Core World. It’s clearly a test, a beginner test to feel him out. It’s almost an insult, but then Anakin gets to thinking about it as he makes his way back to his kids and realizes it’s the smartest thing the man could do. 

Anakin is not desperate. Tiga knows that, for all that Anakin had come to him, Anakin could still go to someone else.

He makes sure that whatever he does, he doesn’t come across as if he is about to accept the first offer to come across the table. And he hadn’t. This offer is the seventh, but really the only one that had the possibilities that Anakin is looking at. Stable, simple, and barely even illegal.

A way to make credits, not draw attention.

It will not stay that way, Anakin knows. Barely legal would turn into absolutely illegal, until it is just a short hop to something else. Something worse. Anakin knows it would. That’s how these things go. Yet, he knows he can be smart about it. He just needs to trust in the Force and in his kids and everything else will fall into place.

“Vrol!” Greets him when he gets back, six sets of eyes looking to him with adoration and joy.

The kids have been cooped up for the entire time Anakin has been off, trying to entice an employer, and they are showering him with their displeasure now. Even angry and grumbly, they are excited to see him. Happy.

He just needs to trust in the Force, he reminds himself as he takes his helmet off. 

* * *

The pick up happens the next day. The day where he is going to pick up the legitimate crates he would be transporting, and the contraband that would be hidden in his ship. He lands the ship at the correct docking station, before looking to the kids.

“Recite it,” Anakin orders the children.

All of them sigh, but dutifully answer. “Out of sight, but not out of mind. See something, say something, but don’t be stupid.”

“And if you can’t reach me?” 

“Panic?” Petro offered.

“No!”

Katooni slaps him as he sniggers. “Relax, we’re just joking. Keep trying.”

“If I don’t reach on the third ring of the consecutive fourth ring?”

“Then obviously you are dead and we should go to ground.”

Byph looks so fucking innocent and pleased. 

“No,” Anakin sighs and drags a hand down his face. “Just wait ten minutes and try again. I might be in negotiations. We’ll be on the same ship, afterall.”

“Yes, Vrol,”

“Just...Stay on the ship? Okay?”

“Yes, Vrol.”

He narrows his eyes at them, searching the Force to see if they were honestly just waiting for him to leave before doing something. Even traumatized as they were doesn’t mean he isn’t aware that children lash out. Or that they could be sneaky.

“Alright, I’m leaving now," he backs up.

“Got it.”

“You better be hidden by the time I get back.”

“Yes, Vrol.”

Gungi and Zatt wave to him, jaunty little waves, while Katooni follows. The other three just sit at their table, too engrossed in the game they are playing. It is a scene of stark normality that Anakin can’t trust. Katooni follows him until she couldn’t any farther. Not seen, still hidden.

“Good luck," she tells him.

He playfully tugs on her head tendril. 

“I don’t need luck,” he replies, “We have the Force. We’ll be fine.”

“... Still.”

Her anxiety is clear. So is Anakin’s. He doesn’t want to leave them for even a second. Even if it was just to go down the ramp, sign the required paperwork and hide the required contraband. Things could go wrong. Anything could go wrong. Anakin knows. He’s been on the bad end of too many rough deals to forget that none.

“I will be careful," he promises. “I won’t be far.”

She nods firmly, looking at his face, searching, before turning away to go find her hiding spot. 

Anakin drops the ramp, trying not to let his own anxiety for this first time smuggling overwhelm him.

“Hey!” One of the Rodians calls out. “You here for the Claxon shipment?”

“Yes.”

He gets a side eye for that. “Need to see some identification Mr. Oler.”

Anakin lifts his fist, where the ident-chip was carefully hidden within the confines of the armor. The Rodian scans it, before nodding and yelling out to the crew behind him.

“Alright, let’s get to work boys!”

* * *

It took an hour, four warehouse thugs, and a simple exchange of hands for papers before Anakin is back in the ship, alone, and given the all clear to launch. He waits until he’s in the atmosphere before he calls out for the kids, letting them know it’s safe.

A long, sharp whistle. 

“ _ Finally! _ ” 

The Kids all pile out and into the room right behind the cockpit. 

“That took forever!” Byph complains, cracking his neck as he moves. 

“It was only an hour,” Merium states as she drops down from the ceiling. Followed close behind by Petro. 

All of them had parts of the ship that they had taken over to hide in, but some of them took the same route to get near their spots. Anakin doesn’t actually know where they all were, but he knows he could find them if necessary. Their bonds are becoming stronger and stronger every day. 

“Still forever.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was.”

“No! It wasn’t!”

And on and on and on it goes. Anakin doesn’t stop them, just leans against the door and watches. The kids all work themselves out of the walls, and ceiling, and floor before settling onto their seats and buckling their seat belts. They keep up a constant chatter and Anakin finds that it has a calming kind of rhythm to it. Easy banter. 

He misses that. He and Obi-Wan had been the worst offenders at easy, witty banter.

His heart hurts, thinking of that, and he has to shake it off.

Once they are all safely strapped in he turns back to the pilot chair, strapping in himself.

“Ready?”

“YES!”

* * *

The first few smuggling shipments were damn near routine. Anakin’s idents were not questioned. They were called upon to answer for their routine hyperlane usage but otherwise left alone. Even so, Anakin wouldn’t let the kids become lax. The kids became adept at hiding in their chosen hidey-holes at a moments notice, but that wasn’t always good enough. Anakin would throw out ‘Fire in the Hole!’ to test them, to make sure they are ready to hide at a moment's notice. 

It’s as they are getting used to the routine and hubbub of it all that things change.

Which is typical.

Anakin is piloting the ship nice and easy, with no real expectations of any hiccups when it happens. 

“Fuck!” Anakin hisses when suddenly the ship decides to do the ship version of the tango.

The ship gives a sharp lurch and then a split second shrill scream of alarm, before it is dragged out of hyperspace, kicking and screaming, with no more warning than Anakin usually receives.

_ Great _ . Anakin thinks to himself, with shaky hands, bringing up diagnostics.  _ Just what we need. _

_ Something must have malfunctioned,  _ he thought with a frown, but is even more baffled to see all systems a-go.

If the systems were fine... and the ship was fine...

Anakin groans just as a ship comes out of dark-space to their right. It’s a medium size ship, larger than theirs by a few hundred meters, with weapons aimed unerringly on them. If it could wave a flag, Anakin knew it would be skulls and crossbones. Like those seafaring pirates Obi-Wan used to read him stories about when he had been young.

Pirates.

Arrogant pirates, too, considering they hadn’t fired on them yet. Too bad they don’t have an inkling of who they are dealing with.

Across space came a ping, a request. 

_ Karking perfect. _

Sighing, Anakin allows only vocals, visuals on complete lock.

“Well hello there voyager!” The voice across the way is bright and sharp. Predatory and coo’ing. A woman, or at least feminine facing. “Best be opening up. We’ll be boarding, love.”

Anakin grimaces. 

So it is going to be like that. He rolls his eyes before answering. 

“Not carrying much." he tells them, honestly. 

True. Also a little lie. They may not have much cargo, but it is worth a pretty penny. This time it’s not just spice, but weapons. All hidden carefully throughout the ship. 

Plus the lives of his kids. Priceless.

“No matter to us," her voice turns hard. “Now. Be a good boy and open up. Else you won’t like what we’ll do.”

The orbital cannons, small as they are, swivel in their direction. Anakin slows, drawing the ship under its speed capacity before the pirates take any silence as a dare to stop them or worse attack them. He doesn’t have backup coming, so he can’t allow himself to pull any hairbrained maneuvering. 

“Fine. Unlocking now.” 

Then he shut down the comm.

“Pirates!” Anakin calls out.

For a moment, there is silence as the kids realize that isn’t their usual command word.

Katooni pops her head into the small cockpit.

“Uhm... What do we do?" she asks, baffled.

“Proceed like normal.” Anakin tells her, already tightening his braces and reaching for his helmet. “Our lives are not worth this cargo.”

Really. It’s not. 

Just because he tells the children he’s going to allow the pirates to board, doesn’t mean he’s going to let them take anything. A little well placed mind-magic and they won’t know they were ever here.

“Hide until I say to come out.”

Katooni follows him out as he finishes suiting up. Gungi and Zatt were still in the bay, not having slipped into the ships inerds like Merium and Byph had. 

Anakin gave them all a pointed look. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation?”

They all frown at him, before Katooni and Zatt scurry off. Gungi growls at him.

_ “I think I would be acceptable backup.” _

Anakin smiled. He isn’t wrong. Gungi is the tallest of all the Kids, but he is still a youngling. Still able to be used as a hostage, as a useful bartering chip. No matter if he could cut an imposing figure, he needed to hide. Ankin scoots him closer to his hiding spot, a nice little hidden space in the floor.. 

“Not this time, alright? Please?”

The Wookiee does not like it, but the little Jedi were used to following their elders. Even when they got snippy they didn’t disobey. Anakin hadn’t been that bad of an influence yet.

Once they are sequestered away, hidden in the force and from sight, Anakin places his helmet on his head. 

Show time.

“Took ya long enough,”

There are five of them that board. Nearly all humans, except for one, and Anakin doesn’t need to be sensitive to understand who rules the pirates. She is a tall human, an attractive face, and the feeling in the Force that promises violence for the sake of her enjoyment. They are surprised as he opens the hatch, allowing their connection to be complete. They have their tools out to force a boarding. 

He almost scoffs. _ If he let them dock, what was he going to do? Attempt to knock them off? A procedure that’s damn near suicidal? _

All of them stiffen at seeing him, all armored up and menacing. 

“Well.” The human female who looks to be almost thirty walked forward. Sure. Steady. Arrogant. A few inches shorter than Anakin in his boots, but still managing to be a larger than life presence. Impressive. “Ain’t you a little different?”

“Probably," he states dryly, leaning against the connection. “And I can promise, the cargo won’t be what you’re looking for.”

He pushes with just the right amount of Force behind the words, not enough to notice. 

It does not have the desired effect.

The human narrows her eyes. 

Blast. Of course these pirates weren’t going to be swayed so easily.

“We’ll be the judge of that." she jerks her chin, indicating for her crew to start. “Just sit to the side and we’ll be done before ya know it.”

_ Fine. _ Anakin decides.  _ Waiting it out, it is. _

The kids are old hat and left nothing behind of themselves, but Anakin still found himself watching the pirates as they came through like a whirlwind. Grabbing things. Tearing things off the walls. Tossing crates and ripping them open, seeing what’s inside like kids on holiday.

Disappointment laces through their faces and Force presence. Crates of protein-bars and other foodstuffs greets them and they are unimpressed.

Each time one of the crew mates brings something to the human woman, who Anakin learns is named Leia, she just scoffs and tells them to look harder. 

“Sure, just rip her apart why don’t’cha.” Anakin drawls, wincing as they go for the floorboards. “You gonna be done anytime soon?”

Four blasters prime and aim at him with imputany. 

“Shut up.” Leia tells him, looking at him with puzzlement. “Do you ever just shut it?”

“Yes." He tells them, which is true, for the most part.

Leia just shakes her head, almost curiously amused.

“Honestly. What part of ‘we’re pirates’ don’t you understand?”

“The part where you’ve failed to take what you want and fuck off?”

There is a pause.

Leia looks at him with a narrow eye glare. Sizing him up. Mind whirling. Anakin had known this wasn’t going to go fast, but this was nearing an hour. 

Anakin tenses up, imperceptibly in his heavy suit, as the minutes drag on.

Then, a fluke, a moment of weakness or blood in the water, Anakin isn’t sure, but it happens. 

Everyone onboard freezes as they hear a sneeze.

It echoes. All of them catch on surprisingly quick.

Then Leia turns to him, slowly, a grin blossoming on her face.

Anakin’s breath caught in his throat. His mind is blank with absolute terror in that moment. A moment that drags and drags and drags. One of his kids had made a noise. A noise that had alerted the pirates to their existence. An existence that was in turmoil at best and illegal at worst. 

Quickly, Anakin allows his Force presence to sizzle out of existence, hidden, from the children. What he is thinking, what he is going to do, he decides with firm resolve and disgusted anger isn’t for them to feel. The rage he feels always is given just enough fuel to burn all the brighter.

Protective anger, this time, not just for himself but for the kids.

“Well.” Leia says.

Anakin takes a breath, steeling himself, but the pirates wouldn’t know, didn’t know, that he’s slowly shutting down. They can't realize that everything about Anakin is everything about protecting those kids. Couldn’t possibly realize who they’ve decided to fuck with.

“Well." he agrees.

Then he releases the dragon.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! We're in the end stretch!

The kids all feel Anakin disappear in the Force at the same second. 

Then, they felt the pirates disappear, too.

None of them share a hiding spot, but in the Force, together, they tangle their emotions together: worry, fear, a constant query or question, a long strum of tension.

The silence lingers.

None of them have ever been patient.

* * *

The kids don’t come out of hiding until they hear the ship next to them disengage. A simple sound but one that they had promised Master Skywalker, through the threat of grounding on the ship, that they would not disobey. Not even as they felt anticipation-relief-shock over Master Skywalker still not reengaging his Force presence. 

But once the ship disengages, well, there are different rules.

All the kids meet in the bay, those that fall from the ceiling meeting those that climb from the baseboards. 

The ship is so quiet that the Temple, even at its most tomb-like, couldn’t copy it.

The bay is a mess, with tipped over crates and things. Erie. Silent. Not the nice silence they had grown used to, acceptance-trust-comfort. There is a heaviness to the entire ship now. A moroseness in the Force, along with a fierce sense of protectiveness. Violence, too. It leaks around them. All these left over emotions that have nowhere to go except soak into the air around them. 

Fear-terror-death-triumph-shock-hurt-hurt-hurt. It is a stain.

“Vr-vrol?” Zatt calls. 

“Cockpit.”

All the kids look at each other, weighing up the words, with the emotion Master Skywalker isn’t emitting. He is still. Silent. 

Skywalker is never still or silent. At least not with them.

Katooni and Petro are both shoved forward. Given meaningful looks to go and talk. To find out what happened.

Being leaders of their small section of Jedi is sure not fun.

Petro goes first, creeping next to the chair and coming to Skywalker's left side, while Katooni took the right. The helmet masks his expression and the way he hides himself in the Force made him like a void. The black that made him so menacing doing its job. Nothing to their senses. A boogie man in all but truth.

“Uhm, Vol?” 

“Hm.”

“What happened?”

A sigh. One of those big ones. A first breath and last all together.

“They were not leaving. Then they found out about you six... So... I did what I had to do.” 

A thrill ran down their spines. 

“What did you do?” 

“I killed them." He jerks his chin forward, helmet taking in the light, “Ships about to blow.”

Sure enough, it did. With enough force, enough fire, that it shook their own ship.

Petro and Katooni both are not sure how to react.

On one hand, it is clear Master Skywalker had felt he had to act. On the other hand... he had killed. For them. It is such a different kind of philosophy than they were used to. As Jedi, there were always better ways. Always another way. Death was reserved for those who clearly deserve it.

Except, who are they to judge how much they deserve or didn’t? 

They had been in danger. Skywalker had said that. He had defended them. 

Katooni climbs on his lap, hugging him fiercely. 

Skywalker is silent, like stone, but he soon warms to her. His presence came back in the Force, flickering in their faces like a candle flame. It is muted, but not a bad feeling. His own arms soon wrap around her.

“So what now?” Petro asks.

Anakin’s arms tighten. 

“We continue with the drop-off.”

* * *

The kids are walking on eggshells around him. Anakin can tell. It’s not their usual reaction to stress and death, and Anakin had thought they were all getting along rather well, all things considered. 

He gets back from another meeting with Tiga, exhausted, when he realizes that the ship still isn’t back to their ‘normal’.

He sighs, as the ship stays silent, even the murmuring of the kids non-existent. 

Then he walks in and they are all sitting around, reading, with only two of them looking up at him: Merium and Zatt.

There is the air of a plan being made, of a plan being finalized. 

“Alright. What’s going on?” He finally asks, two days later, after the ship just didn’t get back to normal.

Zatt answers. “We’ve been reading.”

Well. That’s not where he thought this is going to go.

“And?”

Zatt and Merium look at each other, before firmly nodding. Then they lift their chins, firming up their resolution, and attack him from both sides. Except it’s not an attack, for all that Anakin had tensed up, expecting one, but a...

Hug? 

“Well, hello you two,” Anakin lets Zatt release his helmet and carefully float it over to it’s spot as the door closes behind them. They are all worshipful of his armor. “Can I ask why the hugs?”

Merium answers.

“We were reading about what humans need to survive, so we would know how our supplies are really doing - “

Petro cut in. “Long story short, we read that humans need eight hugs a day to be healthy and happy.”

Anakin blinks at them. Blinks again, before relaxing.

“Huh. I did not know that," he smiles, before adding as he squeezes them in their hugs. “Then I will try to do better.” 

* * *

Life settles back into the kind of normal Anakin had been afraid they would never have again. For instance, Anakin still had a hard time wrapping his brain around this, but the children all gave themselves jobs.

One such job was ‘transponder’ duty, which basically meant one of them spent a few hours a day going through galactic chatter, most of the kind that was underground and imperial, the fun kind to listen to. They made notes on the ‘transponder datapad’, very carefully labeled with plasti-tape and black marker, and gave reports every morning and night.

Anakin would like it to be known that he never asked any of the kids to do this.

He thinks it was adorable and useful the first time. Every time after they get a little more serious and Anakin realizes he’s getting way more out of it than he thought he would. In fact, the daily morning and dinner reports were not just full of tidbits they heard, but rather... tips on where enemies to the Empire would be for the next week, how the new regime was planning to control its citizens, which worlds to avoid because they were first on the Empire’s... ‘takeover’.

One such world was Kashyyyk. Gungi is... overly silent that week.

There is other good information though. Not all of it horrifying. But most.

The daily reports is how Anakin learns they were also listening for chatter on the Clones.

Not that they learn anything useful. The whole galaxy is in the dark over what really happened between the Jedi and the Republic, now Empire. Anakin’s beginning to think he’s the only one who heard the chatter of the Clones before they had gone ground zero on the Jedi.

It isn’t just intel either. Anakin spends a good chunk of time teaching all of the kids how to keep up the maintenance on the ship, just in case he couldn’t. After a week, all of them are able to at least respond correctly ninety-five percent of the time when he points to something and asks them ‘what is that and what is its function?’.

The second week, he teaches them how to play Sabacc and how to haggle without being rude on different planets, along with teaching them to cloak and mind tricks. The kids all called it their ‘culture’ study time. 

They all excel daily.

There was no reason to be so adorable, Anakin thinks, often, as one of them plops in his lap and asks him a litany of questions over binary. All of them do this. Even Gungi. They are... comfortable around him. 

All of them demand hugs, demand his attention, and yet all of them are very aware and very respectful of each other’s time. In so much as they can, in so much as they fight and love and survive.

It blows Anakin’s mind every day. 

* * *

Somehow, some way, after that it’s easy.

His attack on the pirate vessel is touted as a cruel and vicious attack, retaliation for perceived wrongs. A message. Tiga gets the story out of Anakin, and gives him well placed approval for his handling of pirates.

Everyone looks at him differently once Tiga knows.

Anakin gets a new name. He still is Vrol Oler, but now there is an attachment. A violent one. Bloody. It’s soaked in the traditions of fighting for approval, for no reason than death, for a simple understanding that everyone and everything had died.

They now called him Vord’mark. 

It meant ‘silent space’. A concept that meant you didn’t even realize you were dead in space, because it had happened so fast, so quick, there was nothing but the silence as air was stolen from you, as you froze. Nothing but space. 

Life had gotten easier as a feared bounty hunter with a few dozen deaths under his belt.

He also gets stopped at spaceports... a lot less.

Because, of course, the four person crew isn’t impressive enough. The number grows every time he hears the story.

He and the kids are doing fine. That’s the easy part. They lie about their backgrounds. They lie about who they are. They smuggle weapons, spice, and all manner of illicit things around the galaxy for a good chunk of change. 

The destruction of the pirates is far reaching, lingering. Tiga never learns about the Kids, but Anakin never gets close enough to the other human for him to try. It’s a working relationship and that’s it. 

Not that the kids aren’t active. When they go planet side, he lets them go out two by two, or three, but only ever in a group, and they have to keep constant contact. It’s a learning curve for them all, but they’ve only almost been arrested four times.

That is four times more than Anakin, but only because Anakin actually  **was** arrested.

All in all, it lasts for a good two weeks and Anakin has to admit they had become complacent.

Which is why when the world catches up with them two things happen: Anakin gets a new job and Padme Amidala disappears.

* * *

Tiga pays him and usually that was the end of it. 

Today is not a usual day.

“New job. You in?” 

Anakin stays silent. Cocking his head, helmet angled, an indication for him to continue. Their relationship was all about being mutually beneficial to each other, of course he wanted to know.

Tiga just smiles.

“You heard of what happened to the Jedi?”

He very, very carefully doesn't freeze.

Not moving, not breathing. He shrugs. Of course he had heard. Everyone had heard. Hard not to even without being a Jedi. Him, more so than anyone else. Tiga would never, ever learn who he was. Or that he had children. His anxiety thundered in his veins as he watched the human wearily. 

Tiga doesn’t seem like he was about to spring a trap on him, but anything can happen. Anakin subtly feels for the Force around him, trying to suss out everyone else in the room, if they were a danger. If anything, they were so completely bored as to make this conversation nothing.

“Yes.”

“Word on the street is the Empire’s doing a bad job of hunting down those that are left.”

_ Kriffing good.  _ Anakin thought with no small amount of satisfaction.

“And?”

That doesn’t explain this conversation. 

“Anddd,” Tiga drawls, disgusting mouth twisting up into a grin, before reaching into his breast pocket. Anakin doesn’t move, not even to breath, until the man pushes forward a small device. “I managed to get my hands on this.”

_ What the fuck was it? A Jedi tracker?  _ The Jedi had been very, very careful about letting anyone track them, put trackers on them. Under or over skin. It would be plain stupid to allow it. Especially now.

Still, he wants desperately to hesitate but he knows if he did he was as doomed as if he did.

Anakin reaches forward, taking the device in his palm. It activates. A small holoscreen appears. Long lines of data scrolling. Coordinates. Names. Dates. Tracking fobs, too, if they exist. There is other information, but that was not important as Anakin realizes what this was.

His fingers clench, making his gloves squeak.

It’s a Jedi registry.

First and foremost in the registry was their status. He saw many names of Jedi that were listed as deceased and many others labeled as MIA. Furthermore, a fair amount listed as WANTED. He scrolled through the list, noting as dispassionately as he could that nearly every single Jedi out on a battlefield or on their clone ship was listed as DECEASED. 

Before he could get to Obi-Wan’s name or his own, he shut it down.

The message in the ‘gift’ was clear.

“You want me to hunt Jedi.”

Tiga looks amused. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem for a man of your... inclinations.”

Kill one shipful of pirates in self defense and suddenly you're a bloodthirsty sociopath. Not that Anakin had tried to convince him he was anything else, while still not accepting assassinations. If Tiga thinks he would kill indiscriminately just because people got in his way, he wasn’t about to correct him.

Anakin finds it extremely distasteful, but he knows how to play this kind of game.

“Never killed a Jedi before.”

Tiga laughs out loud. “Always like that about you, Oler. You don’t futz around.”

Anakin says nothing as the man calms himself and leans forward. His helmet keeps him apart from the air of any planet, and thankfully the breath of scumbags.

“Fifty-fifty.”

He snorts.  _ Does Tiga think him an idiot? _

“No deal. You ever seen a Jedi battle? I’m not killing myself for a few thousand credits.”

Tiga turns dangerous then. 

“Try a few  _ million  _ credits.”

Anakin makes himself freeze, as if he was surprised, but he isn’t. All the kids know the price on their heads. Even his own. Even if he was the only Jedi with a rescinded kill order.

He stays quiet and Tiga takes that as his blessing to keep talking.

“The Empire wants the Jedi dead. They are willing to pay handsomely for proof of death.”

_ Proof of death? _ That wasn’t good. Anakin frowns behind his helmet and lets Tiga continue.

“Either the body of the Jedi or their lightsaber.”

_ Lightsaber...? _

Oh. Anakin had an idea. An impossible, wonderful, suspiciously awful idea.

“Eighty-twenty.”

Tiga’s eyes flash.

“Sixty-five-thirty-five.”

“Seventy-five-twenty-five.”

Tiga frowns and Anakin quickly interrupts any of his negotiations.

“I’m hunting fucking Jedi.” Anakin made sure to embody Vrol Oler then. Uncompromising and unyielding. “The chance I even kill one is low.”

The human settles back in his seat, sucking on his teeth and contemplating.

“Fine. Deal.”

* * *

Anakin takes his time walking back to the ship. The device in his pocket makes him feel like he weighs a hundred times more than usual. It weighs on him like all the death’s he couldn’t prevent. Heavy and poignant. A new hope and an old condemnation both.

He stops halfway through his path and opens the device.

Just a quick look.

Needing to know. Needing it like he needs air. 

The holo projects such dire information that Anakin has to crouch, so he doesn’t do something silly, like fall over.

Finally getting his answers for all the Jedi he knew, all the Jedi he knew to be dead. Every death hits him like a punch. Stass. Plo Koon. Aayla. All confirmed deceased, by their own captains and troops. It is worse than he could have imagined, looking at those names, attaching faces. Worse were Mace Windu and Ki-Adi-Mundi, and the other Masters because they were reported dead by Palpatine.

He closes his eyes hard, drawing the device to his helmet’s forehead as he breathes. 

There is no death, only the Force. It is an empty platitude, but it helps him begin again.

Then he continues reading.

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s name pops up on the list in the middle of a sea of ‘DECEASED’ as ‘MIA’.

Anakin stares at it before diving into the listing. All the last-known information on him pops up. How the Clones had shot at him, how Cody had shot at him, downing him, but that his body hadn’t been recovered. He was listed as MIA, but since they had no body, not exactly dead. Jedi were whily, after all, and unless they had a body or apparently a lightsaber it was as good as assurity he was alive.

_ He is alive.  _

He rips through the rest of the list, sorting by MIA and WANTED. There are a few hundred Jedi, nowhere near their usual thousands, but still a fair chunk he hadn’t expected to see alive. Or missing from Imperial files. Each name on the WANTED list gives him hope.

Until he realizes something.

Only a handful were Masters, the rest Padawans and Temple-Jedi. Everyone he had helped leave the Temple and the Padawans from a couple of Masters that had escaped. He is surprised to note that there are no listings for the children. Then again, if the Empire had a list, just giving it to bounty hunters who would sell Force-Sensitive children to the highest bidder probably isn’t the smartest idea if you wanted to regain control of said children. 

All together, there were a total of five hundred Jedi unaccounted for.

Five hundred.

He sits heavily on the ground, letting the device shut off as it falls out of his hand.

Five hundred. Out of millions.

So many dead. Such senseless, senseless death. The whole war had been so pointless and useless, and Anakin feels heavier and heavier the more he realizes what their part of it all was: cannon fodder.

The Clones would often joke about cannon fodder season, but they had been a couple million people bred and ordered for war. Sad? Sure. Heartbreaking? Absolutely. But the absolute pinnacle of what they should be? Anakin doesn’t know. But he did know this: The Jedi were all the Force sensitives. All those that wished to live a life of peace, to make sure others were afforded the same opportunities, the good ones and the bad. People, flawed as they were, trying to live within a galaxy that often detested them.

Five hundred. Anakin’s head drooped as he fought back tears.

Once he would have raged.

But who was there to rage against out here? In the middle of a forest?

No one. That’s who.

Anakin is beginning to think he isn’t ever going to understand Obi-Wan’s lesson of letting go. 

He needs to see the kids.

* * *

“Vrol!" he was set upon immediately. Merium and Zatt both leaping into his arms.

_ Five hundred Jedi. _

Even with the information he had received he couldn’t help but laugh as they both gave him big hugs from opposite sides in his arms. Children had this capacity for energy and generosity and love that Anakin is constantly astounded by it.

“Well, hello there,” He smiles behind his mask. “What did I do to deserve this kind of siege?”

Zatt giggles. “Eight hugs a day, remember?”

Anakin nods, just as solemn as any Jedi Master given a toy by a youngling. “Ah yes, I remember now.”

Gungi, Petro, byph, and Katooni all enthusiastically submit hugs with him. Bright smiles.

_ Five hundred Jedi. _

He couldn’t tell them. Not right now. 

So he didn’t.

Six little Jedi were right here. He had saved them. That had to be enough.

“Who’s hungry?”

* * *

Anakin retreats to the cockpit afterwards. He isn’t alone for long.

“Brother?” Petro poked his head around the corner of the cockpit. 

“Yes?” 

The kid shuffled his way in. “Uhm. Are you alright?”

Anakin notices, in the way he was already used to, the other kids behind him. Out of sight, but listening.

They must feel his indecision, his pain, his uncertainty.

“No. Not particularly,” Anakin admits.

Petro comes in and sits in the pilot’s seat, staying silent and watching the blinking lights of the cockpit.

“Is it something we can help with?”

Anakin sighs. 

“I -" he stops himself, trying to decide what they need to know. 

Petro looks at him like he was the parental figure he needed and Anakin has to shut his mouth to keep from treating him like an equal. 

“I’ll figure it out,” he settles on.

Petro looks at him carefully, but accepts his word.

“What did Tiga say today? Any new jobs?”

He couldn’t exactly lie. He had promised himself not to lie to the Kids.

“In a way.”

The silence gets to Anakin first.

“Come on. Everyone should hear this.”

When they come out to the sitting area, everyone is seated as if they hadn’t been eavesdropping. Anakin fondly thinks they are adorable.

He sits on one of the available chairs and faces them all.

“Tiga offered me a job today. It’s not something I can accept without discussing it with you all.”

They share looks. Clan-mate to clan-mate. Something that Anakin could never intrude on.

“Is it bad?” Merium asks.

Always so very perceptive. “It can be.”

“Does it have to do with the Jedi?”

Anakin nods.

“He wants me to hunt Jedi.”

The silence lasted all of a second as their eyes grow wide. Then they all begin to talk amongst themselves at that declaration, over each other, around each other. There is no fear of Anakin, but plenty of fear of the world at large hunting them. Hunting those they might know.

They are all silenced by Gungi.

_ “How?”  _

“How what?”

_ “How are you supposed to hunt them? How are you supposed to... bring them in?” _

They all turned suddenly solemn eyes on him.

Anakin draws out the device from his sleeve then, placing it before them all on the table. It is hardly a big machine, but they all stare at it as if it might bite. So Anakin activates it, immediately showing them the listing for Plo Koon, shot down by his own men. His last known location. His known Jedi co-conspirators. Everything. Then he scrolls down to the listing for a Jedi who is still MIA, Kara Noria, and everything listed for her, too, but updated every hour. Even now, it had updated since Anakin had read it.

“This," he says quietly. “This is how they want me to find them.”

“Does... does just anybody have these?” Zatt asks, while byph couldn’t drag his eyes away from the listing.

“I don’t know.” 

He doesn’t know a lot of things, these days. 

“You aren’t actually going to hunt Jedi... right?”

“We’re not that strapped for cash that we have to turn on our own,” Anakin replies dryly. “And I wouldn’t hunt them to turn them in," he taps at the device. “If a Jedi were hoping to help another Jedi out, wouldn’t it be good to know their last known location? Who they were last seen with?”

The kids all understand. So smart, they are.

“We’re going to find other Jedi!” Katooni exclaims with a big smile. 

Byph interjects, his voice quiet, in awe. “We can find survivors, like us, band together... fight back.”

Hope. It is something that is hard to hold onto. Elusive. Slippery. Anakin admits to losing his hope a time or two on the ship. The kids dig their fingers into the emotion, the feeling with relish, not willing to part from it once they had a renewed taste.

Anakin isn’t going to be the one to take it from them.

* * *

After food, and a session of sparring in the bay, and the kids all exhausting themselves before willingly submitting themselves to bed, Anakin is left to do his nightly check on the Senate.

He may be far, far removed from it all, but he knows the Senators he needs to watch.

Padme and Bail are the most important to him, but he also knows he needs to watch for those who had never cared for the Jedi before being labeled traitors. Legislation coming out of the Empire’s Senate is not particularly impactful, but that is because the Empire doesn’t need it to be. Even he can tell, thousands of starmiles away, that it is all a ruse. Paying attention when Padme or Obi-Wan spoke politics may not have been his strong point, but he always got the gist of what they were discussing. 

He opens the port and went to the public portal.

Padme is first.

He knew she had arrived on Naboo a few weeks ago, because of the holovids and photos he had scoured the net for. After that he hadn't received any more information on the public net, citing that the Senator ‘needed privacy at this time’, but that didn’t stop him. He had set alerts for her, for her family, and for the planet in general. Which is what he carefully rifled through every night when they came in.

The planet was easy to go through, local news and planetary alerts first. 

Tonight he doesn’t get far because a ‘family’ alert popped up.

Blinking, he selects and opens it up. Jaw dropping as he read through the short blip of a missive. 

“Padme Amidala is currently unavailable. Please contact the family for any requests. Flowers and hybusk appreciated.”

Flowers? Hybusk?

What a... strange thing to announce. He narrows his eyes and tries to remember if Padme had ever told him of any code words that her, or her family used. They had things that were spoken, especially, over comm, but written words were harder. This isn’t one of their codes, either, from the war.

He doesn’t think she is in any danger... but he is pretty sure this means she was no longer on Naboo.

Freezing, he remembers something, a niggling thought.

That night, a month ago, they had been discussing names for their child. Padme had been adamant on flower names for girls. He had told her they might as well just name the little one after an herb. They had both laughed, neither letting down from their positions of names. Anakin wanted Luke and Leia, for a boy or a girl, while Padme had wanted Adiacryan and she had finally admitted to not minding Leia.

_ Did that mean... _ His fingers dug into the chair’s synth leather.  _ Padme had their child? _

He has a choice then. 

One choice that should be a no brainer and another that can, theoretically, sit on the back burner. 

Padme just had his child. She deserves to be first and foremost.

Except he already has kids. Six of them.

Like all Jedi before him, family really is a foreign concept for him that he couldn’t quite grasp. He knew a mother’s love, and a son’s love for a mother, but other than that he was clueless. Species doesn’t matter. Family is family. Which means that it was now a matter of who was in more danger?

His six kids or Padme and his child?

Lucky for him, calling someone is as risky as either option. Simply being Anakin Skywalker is more dangerous than trying to call someone.

So he chose. 

* * *

With Padme’s cryptic message, Anakin finally has a reason to risk contacting her. If she had just had their child... she is now at risk. Luckily, they were already planning to run from this planet to go searching for Jedi, so he splices into the ship docked next to him before he makes the call. 

The only problem is that he doesn’t have her number.

Easily solved. So easy it almost makes Anakin slap himself for how stupidly easy it is.

He couldn’t contact Padme directly, but he has Sola’s number. Calling her sister is just as good.

The call barely beeps once, signaling it has connected and has informed the other participant.

_ :Sola Naberrie speaking. Who is this?: _

It worked. Anakin stares at the blinking dot on his console. A beat passing as he tries to find words.

_ :Hello?: _

“Hello Sola.”

This time the pause is all on her side.

**_:Anakin?_ ** : She hisses into the receiver. : _ Holy - Anakin, what - where are you? No. Wait.:  _ There is the sound of a door shutting. Of rumpling clothing. _ “Don’t answer that. Dagorath! Anakin, I can’t even - Why are you calling me?: _

There is real fear in her voice then and Anakin knows he made the right choice.

“I just need to know where she is, Sola,”

A moment of silence that stretched and stretched. 

_ :She’s fine but she’s not here.: _ She spoke, this time softly, as if she is whispering and hiding herself away.  _ :She left. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going, but she left last night.: _

“What?” 

Anakin couldn’t breath. 

_ :She’s gone.:  _ A pause. Pregnant and devastating.  _ :T _ **_hey’re_ ** _ gone. Understand?: _

“Yes.” Because he did. They. Her and his child. 

_ :It’s not safe here. Not for... them or you.: _

Anakin closes his eyes. “I - I - Thank you, Sola.”

_ :You can’t contact me, again. Don’t come back to Naboo or Coruscant, Anakin,: _ Sola told him, in that same whisper.  _ :There is nothing here for you.: _

Then she hung up, which is good, because Anakin is nearing the end of his splicing ability to make it still an anonymous call. Prodigal he may be when technology is involved, but all it took is a small army working faster than him. Still, he sits in the pilot's chair, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as the line disconnects. 

Padme isn’t on Naboo. She had run. She isn’t in the Empire clutches. 

She is free.

Anakin felt faint, with relief and despair both twisting his chest up into ribbons.

She is gone. Gone somewhere he couldn’t follow, not immediately, anyway, and in that action had made herself safe from him and Palpatine.

He ran the ship through it’s startup procedure and yelled out over the intercom. “LIFTOFF!”

Answering little agreements and acknowledgements pinged against his shields. Then they all pull back, allowing him to concentrate, as he punches in the right address for the next planet, Sarrish, and they are off. 

Only when they were safe in hyperspace does Anakin allow himself to think about Sola's conversation.

Padme had run. She had had their child and then she had run. 

He shakes with relief, even as he sits in numb shock. Hearing Sola’s voice had been a comfort, even if it hadn’t been the voice he had wanted to hear, but all of that is nothing in comparison to the relief knowing that she had escaped. Palpatine doesn’t have her. 

He smiles triumphantly.

_ All speed, Padme, _ he told the stars, knowing she is out there, running far and wide, but still able to run. 

Knowing that he nor Palpatine had Padme allowed him to focus more fully on the other matter: the Jedi.

* * *

The bar on Sarrish is a slimey, sleazy place. The perfect place to get the kind of job that he needed to survive. Also the last place one Jedi Padawan by the name of Caleb Dume, Depa Billaba’s Padawan, is last seen. It used to be Separatist space, but now everything is the Empire, so Anakin only feels slightly like an asshole for landing on the planet that the Jedi had so failed, back when failing a planet had actually mattered.

“Vrol Oler.” The slezmo, Kip’ia, in front of him greets him once Anakin has sussed out who he needed to talk to. “Looking for work?”

"You pay," Anakin states, affixing his usual aura of absolute ruthlessness. "I play."

The man laughs out loud.

"I've heard good things about you. How you took out those  _ ragarus _ , I mean, impressive stuff."

Stupid pirates. Anakin allows no emotions to show.

“Point?”

It is silent then, as the man weighes him up before him. 

“Yeah. I got some merchandise that needs to be moved. Weapons grade, if you get my meaning,”

Anakin scowles behind his helmet. He got it all right. Weapons. Luckily, Anakin is well aware these weapons would most likely go to resistance cells rather than the underworld. It isn’t a blameless way to transport weapons, and many would be used by the wrong sort of people, but Anakin isn’t in the business of stopping people from killing each other anyway. Not as a Jedi and certainly not as whatever he is now. Plus Kip’ia owned this quadrant of space. If he is going to be asking after a Jedi he should at least play by the man’s rules. 

“How far?”

Kip’ia jerked his chin and one of his minions came over, dropping down a credit pik and dossier. “Kaller.”

Not a pleasant place, also not far. These weapons were certainly going to be used by the wrong kind of people, but Anakin knows he is in a hard enough place as it is. Better to just get through it. Mark where this man did business, keep himself aware of the happenings for any chance to take him out, and continue on his way.

Other Jedi might have taken offense to this kind of work, but Anakin isn’t most Jedi.

How could he judge them when he had been involved with the biggest and most useless war of them all?

He read over the cargo haul, the weight and what he is hiding outside of the crates. He’d make a good amount off this, and it would certainly endear him to this sleezmo. 

“Doable." he told Kip’ia, taking the credits and the dossier. “Consider it done.”

The man is smiling but Anakin could see the hard edge behind him. The snake in the grass. The evil hidden.

“See that it is,”

He nods, before moving off to find himself the point of contact that had said they had seen the Jedi Padawan in the area. A week ago, now.

The weequay woman is shrewd and nervous but ultimately admits that she had seen him near the shipyard a week ago. She said she didn’t want to cause trouble, but the reward for Jedi sightings were well worth it. Anakin didn’t feel the least bit sorry when he Mind Tricked her into telling him everything she remembered.

_ Katooni. Petro. _ He calls.

_ Yes? _ They both echo in his skull.

_ I need you all to splice into the dock’s hub and download all of the video from five days ago. _

There is true joy that suffuses their bond.  _ You got it Master! Time frame? _

He sighs, but allows the small concession across the bond, where no one would hear them. 

_ Take your time. _

Unless there were other Force-Sensitives... of course. Anakin takes that moment to become more aware of his surroundings. Nobody is directly watching him, or following, but his suit and helmet were quite striking. Eyes follow him wherever he goes.

When he makes his way back to the ship, the kids are nowhere to be seen, obviously cloaking themselves and hiding as he had ordered. 

_ All aboard.  _ He broadcasts, amused as he feels their own excitement ping against his own. 

Once the ship is all sealed shut and there is about an hour before the ship would be once again full of contraband, the Kids appear. Anakin isn’t particularly surprised to note they are all huddled around the holo-viewer, going through the footage.

“Hi Vrol,” Merium greets, turning her face briefly. “We’ve gone through about two hours already on the day in question.”

“Good job. Anything?”

They all shake their heads, Merium returning her eyes to the holo the Petro and Gungi are watching. They have three different views and all of the kids had split up to look at them all. 

Anakin sits beside Zatt and Katooni to help them. He has a feeling that this one, a view of the entrance to the docks, is their best bet.

Luckily, it only takes half an hour to find the Jedi on screen. It is Byph who sees him, with sharp eyes.

“There.”

He zooms in. All the kids gather around and watch as he slowed the video down to regular speed. 

Caleb Dume was dirty, deeply skittish, and looking for a ship to stow away on. The vid is grainy and not the best quality, which is what Anakin had hoped for from a seedy dock such as this. It had only been a little under a month since the Siege against the Jedi Temple, but the boy is looking skinny and malnourished. He looks every bit the scavenging parentless child that Anakin had seen across the galaxy. 

People wouldn’t even notice he was a Jedi unless they looked close enough. 

“Did you get -”

“Logs of ships that were taking off that day?”

He looks at Katooni's extremely innocent face.

“Yes.”

“Then yes, we did." 

She hands over a data chip. 

Zatt says, “It looks like he’s going towards hangar Z,”

It doesn’t take long after that to find out that Caleb had stowed away on a civilian ship, with no cargo listed. The ship listing said it was on its way to - 

Anakin’s eyes widen. 

Kaller. Plateau City.

Damn, but if the Force didn’t work in mysterious ways.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! :) I've really enjoyed reading everyone's comments and seeing everyone's thoughts.  
> Honestly you guys have come up with some EXCELLENT 'how does Anakin meet Padme' and I love them all so I bet you're gonna be disappointed but the story had to end somewhere lol.  
> I hope you guy's enjoy the newest addition to their crew ;)

They take the shipment to the large city of Kallerian II before going to Plateau City, just a short jump over. 

Anakin doesn’t have a lot of hope that they would find the kid on this planet. If he was smart, he would have hopped on the nearest ship and gotten far far away. Except when they arrive and snap up the footage and logs - the kid hadn’t left. 

It took them a whole day before they found what they were looking for. Caleb. The short human, a kid but on the edge of adulthood. Together, they all watch all of the footage from when Caleb got off the ship on Kaller, until now. 

“So. Then. He’s still here?” Petro asks, frowning at the holo-image of the outside of the ship. 

“It looks like it.”

Anakin had been watching the footage with a different eye than the kids. Watching for lightsabers and Imperial soldiers. For Clones. There are a few shuttles but none that were too terribly suspicious. Which meant the chance of the Empire being after this particular Padawan is low. Likely, very low. 

“Alright, I’m going out to look for him.”

“ _ Can I go _ ?” Gungi asks, arguably the best at cloaking. 

“Let me go ask around, see if anyone’s seen him,” Anakin replies. “If I don’t find him, I’ll call you all for help. How about that?”

None of them are happy, but they dutifully stay behind, leaving Anakin to hunt a young Jedi all on his own. 

He sighs, realizing how ridiculous this is going to be. Fortunately, he isn’t an idiot, and he immediately starts to stretch his senses, searching for a Kyber Crystal, the sweet singing from his own lightsaber easily tuned out, or the feeling of another Jedi.

Nothing pops up immediately, so he starts into the city. Eyes on the ground were always better.

There is... something. Far off in the distance. He frowns as he focuses on it, but it escapes him with all the agility of a fish. He isn’t sure if it is the kid or some other feral Force Sensitive who is alive and well on this planet.

Anakin decides he would just wonder in its general direction. Never failed him before.

Palpatine’s genial smile came to him then. When he would go and visit after a mission, the relief he would feel at having someone to confide in. His feet always took him to Palpatine.

And they had been wrong.

He freezes as he considers it, but now was not the time to hesitate. Now is time for action. He can’t be second guessing everything in his life over one asshole. 

He keeps a watchful eye, burying his feelings.

Unfortunately, with his suit and helmet, nearly everyone watches him back. He knows he had a few followers within an hour of stepping foot on the planet, because they are not very adept at hiding, and are blatant about it. The criminal underworld is always watching, after all, and they keep tabs on any new players.

Hopefully he can find the kid and get off the planet before anyone decides to confront him, or, dear Force, offer him a  _ job _ .

They were doing just fine on funds for now. Sure, another job wouldn’t hurt, but he has another mission now.

Anakin takes his time. Projecting back at his kids and then moseying around. He lost a few of his tails that way. Casually walking and then ducking into alleys, then into different shops. It is as he is passing an alley when things finally get interesting.

As these things usually happen: Anakin is just in the right place, at the right time.

Obi-Wan never believed him, even with the Force his guide, but it was the truth.

He hears the violence before he sees it. The Force is saturated with a desire for blood and death, shock and surprise. Jedi instincts flare and he turns his back to the wall, peeking into the alley without a second of hesitation. It’s second nature, really, to get in the middle of things. In the alley he sees five figures, which turn into a Kallerian male, a Rodian, and a few humans as he squintes.

Four of them are facing off against the fifth, who was the tall Kallerian male. Vibroblades are out and advancing on the other man, with the other men grinning like mad Noons, near on the edge of laughter. Just as they were about to brawl, a new smaller figure jumped into the fray.

“Kid!” The Kallerian snarls at the newcomer, but Anakin can feel the man’s surprise and shock. 

Which is when the kid turns from the human he had just downed, so Anakin could see his face.

Well.

_ Hello Caleb. _

Without stopping to consider his next course of action, as was his modus operandi, Anakin joins in the fight. With his admittance into the fight, it is short lived. Considering it is two Jedi, albeit one of them a Padawan fighting, Anakin isn’t shocked. 

They make quick work of them, even though Anakin has a Blaster and the kid has a lightsaber. 

Which. Damn.  _ What was he trying to do?  _ **_Draw_ ** _ the Empire to him?  _

The last human runs as far as he could as soon as he realizes he is outmatched.

Which leaves Anakin, Caleb, the downed enemies, and the Kallerian in a stalemate. The Kallerian stares at them, mostly Anakin, with shrewd, calculating eyes. 

“Well." he says. “Didn’t know I had friends, did I?”

Anakin carefully replaces his blaster in his belt, before turning to Caleb. He scrutinized the too skinny boy, who is looking at him like he is a friendly stray tooka who had just brought him a mouse. Or an Imperial Clone about to attack. Hard to tell.

“Who are you?”

_ Kriff, he even sounded young _ . Anakin tries to think of something to say that wouldn’t get him in trouble, that wouldn’t draw too much attention. 

“Form three.” 

Caleb froze. 

“I - What?”

“Form three. She favored it.”

Caleb flinches, hands shaking as he stares at Anakin. Anakin can see the war going on behind his eyes. He wants to believe. He wants to trust. So badly. Yet, he hardens right up, not stepping closer.

“Who  **are** you?”

Anakin can’t help but smile. He already promised the children that unless under pain of death, and even then, that he isn’t to take his helmet off. So that avenue is out. Instead, he holds his hand out over his hidden saber in his left thigh holster and summons it. It slaps into his hand, with a familiar weight and warmth, and he lights it up. The blue bright and static and so very welcome, the Kyber Crystal’s song loud and joyous at being used.

“A friend.”

The Kallerian very helpfully adds, “Well Shit.”

* * *

Observing the Kallerian, he finally decides to demand. “Who are you?”

“Janus Kasmir. At your service." he even gives a little bow, never allowing his eyes to stray from the saber.

Perfect. A low-life. A smuggler. Just what Anakin needs. He turns his head slightly to regard Caleb.

“You know him well?”

He isn’t going to insult the kid by asking if he knew him. The kid had risked himself for the guy, after all.

“He helped me out... I stole his ship.”

So. Not a good relationship. He does his best at exuding an absolutely shocking amount of disappointment. By the way that Caleb flinches and the kids all hammer at his shields to demand what the hell he is doing, Anakin knows he had hit it right. 

“I won’t pass judgement.” Anakin promises Caleb. “But will he stay quiet?”

Janus Kasmir seems to catch onto his line of thought, because he suddenly stiffens, quick to defend himself.

“Hey! I’m not gonna tell nobody. I’m silent. Good at that, I am.”

Anakin believes that. 

Not.

Caleb looks torn. Anakin takes pity on the kid.

“What do you go by?” Anakin asks Caleb, because he knew as well as anyone that real names were to be protected, guarded close to their hearts, given in secrecy and with trust in such short supply he couldn’t just give it up. Especially when Anakin isn’t about to reciprocate. He isn’t going to be a hypocrite afterall.

“I - uh," he frowns. “Kanan.”

Good name. It fits a scrappy little guy like him. It wouldn’t be out of place in his bunch either.

“Kanan,” Anakin speaks, making sure it still sounded like he is saying Caleb. “Your choice.”

The kid might have been young, but he was a Padawan during a war that had claimed his Master’s life. He should be able to connect the dots of what he is asking. Anakin isn’t being particularly obtuse. He much prefers being straight with people.

“Leave him,” Caleb tells him firmly. Standing up straight. An echo of the Padawan he once was. “He helped me.”

Anakin wants to tell him not to be foolish, but he can’t. Trust and allies were hard enough to find. Cultivating them is just as hard. That his own kids were so very new to trying is his own fault, but also a necessity. Additionally, trusting the Force can be tricky. No matter how muddled and yucky it might be right now.

He nods.

“Come.” Anakin turns away. “I have a ship.”

“Wait!”

Stopping, he turns back. “Yes?”

“I - uh," he blushes under the filth. “What do I call you?”

Anakin didn’t hesitate. The name is his. He is proud of it, in the only way he allows himself to be proud of it. As a successful disguise, not as the low life he is. It is him, now, just as the suit is him.

“Vrol Oler.”

Kanan’s eyes widen and he takes an involuntary step back.

Janus Kasmir behind them says, softly, but with feeling. 

“Fuck.”

Even Caleb, no Kanan, looks surprised. Taking a step away from him and closer to the smuggler. The Kallerian is frozen, watching Anakin with not just watchful eyes, but clear fear and terror. Only a few weeks with his new moniker and the whole galaxy knew his name. 

So not helpful. 

“Kanan.”

The kid flinches, but looks.

“Search your feelings," he tells him. “I mean you no harm. You know this to be true.”

Kanan takes a deep, steading breath. Eyes open, watchful, but a mile away as he tries to suss out if Anakin is going to turn on him. Hurt him.

“... Okay. But. I - uh - I just - I need to know. Did you really kill everyone on that ship?”

Anakin sighs, it came out of his vocalizer like static. “Short answer yes, long answer: I blew up a ship. Anyone on the ship certainly didn’t survive.” 

Does it matter that he feels absolutely nothing but disdain for mudding himself with their deaths? Does it matter that he feels no remorse? No disgust for himself? Nothing but that numb, calm acceptance that it had been him or them?

And they had lost.

“They fought back?”

Kanan knows better than to ask that.

“Yes. I’ve blown up my fair share during the war, and I am sure you did, too.” 

Kanan doesn’t like that, his mouth screwing up into a frown. 

Anakin doesn’t have time for this. The longer they stand there, two Jedi having recently used their lightsabers, the longer someone is bound to be sniffing after them.

“Now, are you coming?”

“Why?”

Anakin cocks his head. 

“Because I came here for you.”

Kanan startles. 

“You knew I was here?" he demands, paling. “How?”

Anakin just shakes his head. 

“It wasn’t hard. Watched the footage from the last port. Then watched the dock when we arrived. Figured you couldn’t leave without a ship.”

“We?”

“Hmm?”

“You said we.” Kanan’s eyes are shining brightly. “Are there - ?”

“Yes or no,” Anakin repeats once more. “Coming or not, I’m leaving.”

Then he doesn’t wait. Doesn’t watch the Kallerian unfreeze, looking like he wants nothing less than to run and never look back, but also looking at the kid with softer eyes. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t wait. Kanan and Kasmir in the alley watch him walk off, with dubious expressions for different reasons.

Anakin doesn’t need to look back, because he can feel Kanan following him after a short goodbye to the Kallerian.

* * *

Kanan catches up with him until he is keeping stride. A hard thing since Anakin is tall and the kid is malnourished. The Jedi is already planning a nutrition schedule for him, four meals a day, to get him back to an acceptable weight. It won’t take long.

He takes the time, as they walk in silence, to check him over in the Force.

Only to flinch.

Caleb is a hurt, sore point in the Force. He has gotten used to it, as much as he could, from his own kids, but this new kind of pain and ache was... well, he isn’t honestly sure how the kid isn’t curled up on the ground sobbing. It is broken bonds, hopelessness, steeped in exhaustion from not sleeping, and a whole slew of things that Anakin couldn’t even begin to start covering. 

Caleb has been through hell.

Carefully, making sure he transmits his movements, Anakin lifts a hand and carefully places it on the kids shoulder. He still flinches. Unsure and unused to the feeling, Kanan looks at him with distrustful but hopeful eyes.

Anakin knows just what to say.

“What’s your favorite food?”

Kanan blinks.

“Uh... Noodles?”

Anakin nods, before leading him into a shop right before the docks. 

Kanan’s eyes when he begins to order takeaway almost make it all worth it. While they wait for it to be ready, he makes sure to hand the kid the appetizers he got. Kanan inhales as if it is air, looking sheepish when he’s done. The order is large, enough for a small army and he loads up Kanan with bags filling both hands. His own full, too. The kid looks between the food and Anakin and there is something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Hope.

“Come on.”

* * *

The kids all know the rules, but he could feel them on the edge of his awareness gagging to be let free to greet their newest refound kin. Kanan, for his part, is numbly shocked as he follows Anakin up the gangplank. He also looks suspiciously around, not sensing a single living thing onboard. Anakin can practically hear him thinking that he’s being lied to.

Once the ramp shut, Anakin calls out.

“Order up!”

All of the kids appear before them with big smiles and excited cheers.

“Hi!” 

“Hello!”

“We’re so excited to meet you!”

“Can’t believe Vrol found you so quick!”

Kanan’s eyes get wider and wider, his mouth dropping lower and lower as child after child speaks to him. Says hello. Comes closer, wanting to touch him and make sure he is real, that he is there. Tangible. Anakin floats his own bags to the floor behind them, so they wouldn’t stamp over them like the little monsters they are, before gently taking Kanan’s bags and allowing the kids to really greet him.

Eight hugs a day, after all, was the motto around the ship recently and the kids look to be making up lost time.

It doesn’t take long before Caleb is crying into Gungi and Katooni’s shoulders.

“I didn’t think anyone survived!” 

Anakin takes his distraction as the perfect time to take his helmet off. Zatt takes it out of his hands and floats it to its reserved spot. The kids all jealously guarded their jobs, even as they often forgot them.

“We survived.” Anakin says, with his own voice and his own face.

Kanan turns to him, shock and awe suffusing the Force. His face white and jaw dropped as he tries to understand what he is seeing.

“Master Skywalker?”

He puts a finger to his lips, shushing and asking for silence both. 

“Call me Vrol or brother.”

It feels good, somehow, to strip himself of the name Anakin Skywalker and just allow himself to be.

Kanan, for his part, throws himself forward into Anakin’s arms. 

* * *

Kanan is overwhelmed and Anakin stays back as the Kids all greet him and bring him into the fold. Gungi shows him where the supplies are, Petro taking over to show him where he and Merium sleep and where their ‘hiding’ spot is. Katooni and Zatt lead him upwards, into the guts of the ship and Anakin doesn’t see them for a few hours. He feels their content joy, their absolute pleasure at having another one of their own in their midst. Alive. Another Jedi firmly placed in the ‘alive’ column.

As the kids work Kanan over, Anakin sits in the pilot's chair and tries to figure out who to go after next.

The list has updated again and fifteen more Jedi are dead.

_ What? _ Anakin startles at that, staring at the list in horror. He turns to the holonet for answers, trying to understand what could possibly be happening that fifteen Jedi – smart Jedi, competent Jedi – could die in a single day.

The first result on the holonet is simply:

JEDI TEMPLE BEACON LIT! TRAITORS CAUGHT!

_ Oh. _ Anakin closed his eyes.  _ Oh, no no no. _

He had failed to get a message out himself, and then after he had left the planet, there was no way to warn every Jedi. After his first failed attempt at warning the Jedi of what was to come, being blocked and cheated out of warning them, he hadn’t thought to go to the Beacon. 

The second search result made him blink back his tears as he sat forward. 

Holy shit.

TRAITOR OBI-WAN KENOBI LEAVES TRAITOROUS MESSAGE!

For the first time in weeks, he saw his Master’s face, in blue light, floating innocently in front of him. He looked like he had when he left, but his Jedi robes were gone, dark circles under his eyes, frown lines prominent. He doesn’t even try to stop himself as he reaches forward, playing the clip. The first part is some journalist, but then they play the clip of what Obi-Wan had said and Anakin is crying.

Obi-Wan shows up before him, in a blue little hologram, still looking as poised and perfect Jedi as ever, with the world hanging on his every word.

_ “This is Master Obi Wan Kenobi,” _ he says.  _ “I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with a dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi. Trust in The Force. Do not return to the Temple…that time has passed. And our future is uncertain. We will each be challenged. Our trust. Our faith. Our friendships. But we must persevere. And in time, a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you, always.” _

“Vrol?”

Anakin wipes at his face, unable to stop himself, the tears like a leaky faucet down his cheeks, down his chin, down his neck. He can’t even talk. It only comes out in a croak.

“Katooni.”

She looks at Obi-Wan on the screen in front of them, before moving forward and plopping herself in his lap. Her strong arms come around his middle, drawing him close and hugging him until he couldn’t breathe, as if she could cut off the sadness at the source, his heart. Anakin’s own arms come around, hugging her close, hand carefully cradling her head and neck.

“I’m sorry," he tells her, tells them all, as he allows his arms to go loose. 

“For what?”

“Fifteen more. Dead.”

“It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for every Jedi.”

Yes. Yes he could. 

* * *

It’s not until later that Anakin realizes five entries in the database are completely gone. 

And that the transmission from Obi-Wan Kenobi has long been deleted.

It hardly mattered. Obi-Wan is  **alive** .


	13. Chapter 13

Anakin is starting to go a little crazy. He is no closer to finding Padme or Obi-Wan even a month after finding Kanan. He hears stirrings of a rebellion, but he stays back because the whole War had been Jedi meddling - why would he try it for a second time? He wants to fight for something, but he also knows that he can’t. Not until he saves as many Jedi as he can. Not until he finds Padme. Not until he hunts them all down.

Not until he’s finally free.

In the manner of a week, they have hunted four Jedi.

In the same manner, they have found four dead Jedi.

It's... depressing and demoralizing both. 

The only light is that Kanan fits in with all of them like a glove. He’s an older presence, but still a learner. Respectful, even after his weeks alone, fairing for himself. A Jedi in training as they all are. The boy watches the kids while Anakin is off the ship, and is another voice of reason when the Kids get rowdy and insane. He’s older than the kids, so he’s often on Anakin’s side in matters of safety, but he’s younger than Anakin, so he takes his cues from the ‘Master’ Jedi.

Still. It’s been a rough and trying few weeks. 

A close call when their contraband had almost been discovered. The kids and Kanan become used to surviving in the same space, allowing Kanan his space as a Padawan (even without his Master). The ship becomes claustrophobic soon, the energy in the ship hard to disperse. When they stop for fuel, the kids all go out. Anakin has long since stopped trying to stop them.

He trusts these kids. They know how to handle themselves without him. Long gone are the days where he frets over them, watches them as they go out. He trusts them. Wound around their force presences he’s also aware of them, always linked.

A month and he’s turned temple brats into decent enough galactic wanderers. With some exceptions. Merium still has trouble haggling, but that’s no problem. Byph and Katooni are both hesitant to truly harm their opponent, which Anakin had tried to assure them, but they were adamant that they should know how to disable, not harm. Gungi needs a translator, but that's not his problem, that’s the galaxy's problem.

All in all, they aren’t doing bad.

They just aren’t doing their absolute best, either.

* * *

Anakin is still no closer to solving his problems either.

No contact with Padme or Obi-Wan. No closer to understanding what the fuck was going on with the clones. 

Kanan was a success. Finding a Jedi Padawan is the only win they’ve had. Sure wouldn’t net him any credits in sabbac.

The only thing he was excelling at was keeping a step ahead of Palpatine but he knew that would be short lived soon enough. The Empire was in its teething stage, bringing the Separatists and Republic worlds together through brute strength rather than any finesse. Sooner, rather than later, it had to become more efficient. It wouldn’t always be this bumbling large beast. Not if Palpatine was going to get his way.

There is a kind of insistent tug, a lead from the Force. 

He can’t bring this back to the kids. 

Anakin stops at a bar before he is ready to go and return to the ship. He needed a drink now more than ever. 

That’s when he heard it.

“I’ll have you know! I had many Jedi friends!”

Only one man would make such a bold claim, so very loudly. And sure enough when Anakin turns, he is greeted by the pirate who had once been a pain in his ass: Hondo Ohnaka. The Weequay pirate was seated behind him with a gaggle of his finest buddies, all getting absolutely sloshed.

“I used to be friends with the Jedi! Why, the dashing Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Knight Anakin Skywalker were once my guest!”

Well. Guest is a stretch.

“Here here! To the Jedi!” One of them cheers, all of them drinking heavily. Before another offers up. “AND GOOD RIDDANCE.”

“Here here!”

Anakin winces. Pirates are the worst lot of them all, but he had to admit he respects Hondo. The guy has a flair for the dramatics, sure, but he isn’t a slaver, nor does he deal in the truly despicable parts of the galaxy. He steals and he sells what he stole honestly. As far as pirates went, he was the gold standard.

Not wanting to be recognized, or to get into it with another group of pirates, Anakin turns back to his drink and tries to plot out his next plan of action. The kids and Kanan would have final say, but he thought he should meditate a little on the actual where.

The Force is pretty insistent that he stay here and do his thinking, so he does. 

Staring moresley into his mug he asks himself: _Core space or outer rim territory?_ Depending on which, there were about fifteen Jedi last spotted in either space. 

(Just yesterday there had been about fifty names that had disappeared from the registry.)

It isn’t an easy choice. On one hand, Core space has the best tracking data, and newer upkeep, but the rim territories are safer. For all of them. Except it would be like hunting ghosts. The caliber of Jedi that were split between the territories is vast, too. The core worlds holds Padawans and younglings and youths, those that wouldn’t stand a chance alone, while the outer rim holds those that knew to run, to go to ground, a general or two, Masters, and those Jedi that had escaped with them, hanging onto the coattails of someone more adept at surviving these kinds of situations.

Someone took that moment to spill a drink all down his back. 

Everything freezes around him.

He pauses for a long moment. The entire bar goes silent as he tenses up, before slowly turning towards his assailant.

Sure enough it is a weequay pirate.

The man is glassy eyed and stupid looking. Clearly piss drunk.

Anakin has a reputation to protect, or else he would have just left well enough alone. Instead he stands up and towers over the man. The poor idiot doesn’t even have the good sense to be scared, just stares right at him, hiccups and says.

“Fancy seeing you here, ey?”

They have never met before.

“You have ten seconds.” Anakin says.

He found if he kept his threats vague enough people wouldn’t push him to actually follow through. He is a tall man, wearing a dark suit, completely covered from head to toe in weapons and an air of danger. Smart people cower and fled before him.

The man is clearly not smart, as he decides after staring at Anakin that he could take him.

Which is thankfully when Hondo steps in.

“Whoa! Hey there partner! No need to be getting hasty,” Hondo quickly moves his ‘friend’ behind him and tries to usher Anakin back to sit at the bar. “Let’s get something to clean you up and let me get you a drink, my friend? On me?”

Anakin can’t be seen to be giving in too soon. So he doesn’t. Lightening quick he moves, grabs Hondo by his neck and tosses him aside to get to his ‘friend’, who is only now beginning to realize the seriousness of the situation, if his paling is any indication. Not wanting to get banned from the bar nor destroy the very nice atmosphere, Anakin grabs the drunkard by the collar and drags him outside.

The patrons would think he is going to kill the man.

The man is going to think he is going to kill him.

Anakin just wants to get away from more prying eyes that want to create stories about him. Useful stories, sure, but stories nonetheless. 

_Why is it always me?_ Anakin asks himself.

Outside in the alley Anakin throws the man down. Luckily he lands in a puddle and that manages to help sober him up. That and the fear slowly taking root. The man lands and throws himself around, onto his back and scrambles like those side-walking creatures on beaches. 

Anakin, instead of saying a damn thing, waits.

Sure enough, the man blubbers.

“It was an accident! I was - “

He can’t stand it for longer than a few seconds, so he kicks the man over. His fingers twitch to be holding his lightsaber. People always are more humble and cowed after being threatened by a lightsaber. So he settles for his blaster.

It only takes a few seconds for Hondo and the rest of the crew to come out and... watch.

“It was an honest mistake, honorable, Vord’mark,” 

Huh. Well that was the first time someone had used that new title. He rolls the name over in his head, hating it all at once, but realizing he should play this the way a bounty hunter would. Supremely caring for only one person. Himself.

Anakin looks over his shoulder. It had been Hondo who spoke.

“A mistake,” he says.

Hondo nods, shrewd and calculating. “Perhaps we can make it up to you, esteemed friend?”

Oh, that’s never a good idea, Anakin acknowledges before he turns from the scared idiot in front of him. But better than anything he’s gotten in days. A trade means he doesn’t have to kill someone.

“What do you have that I could possibly want or need?” He allows curiosity to seep into his tone. Make him seem marginally more sentient.

“How about a Jedi?”

A Jedi? Anakin stares down at Hondo, as the weequay stays surprisingly silent after giving him said information. The fact that his name has started to reach certain circles that know him as a Jedi hunter (even if he had never bagged a Jedi) is not comforting. Yet, it is useful if it allows him to find a Jedi alive and well.

More than.

“Who?”

“Well, you’ll have to excuse us, we’re just humble smugglers,” Anakin wouldn’t believe him even if he hadn’t been captured and held for ransom, but he doesn’t interrupt. “We couldn’t possibly know of which Jedi we have. We are hoping, uh, that you could help us identify him?”

“Details?” Anakin demands.

“Human. Male. Approximately early thirties in age.”

Anakin knows the roster of Jedi there are left in the galaxy not currently dead, missing, or otherwise unaccounted for. There are few Masters alive that fit that description, Obi-Wan being the only one he cares for, selfishly.

“Take me to him.”

* * *

It’s the same damn ship from when Obi-Wan and he were originally captured, trying to verify and trade for Dooku. Of course, they had spent the vast majority of their time in the compound, but Anakin only had to be somewhere once to memorize the layout. It looks like new, scrubbed up and polished, but Anakin doesn’t forget a ship. Faces come and go, but ships are forever. The pirates have clearly been having a very profitable quarter.

Anakin wonders how much of that is to do with the Jedi’s demise. Probably more than Anakin is comfortable knowing.

Hondo wouldn’t shut up. Anakin knows it is more of a coping mechanism than anything else but he stays on guard either way. During the war, both he and Obi-wan had been taken advantage of. He doesn’t need that happening again when he is all alone. Regardless of the children knowing where he is. 

“She’s a beauty isn’t she? Stole her off some -”

Anakin didn’t have time for this. His alter-ego Vrol didn’t either.

“Where is the Jedi?”

Hondo glares at him like he is the rude one, before scrubbing his face and showing a good sabbac face.

“This way.”

They walk down a hallway and that’s when Anakin begins to... feel.

The Force around Anakin is a maelstrom of something. Anticipation? Maybe closer to apprehension?

Anakin doesn’t know. All he knows is that he gets closer, and the feeling of like-meeting-like comes to him, and it is like the greeting of an old friend. That’s not saying much. Anakin had met most Jedi in his life, and a Jedi that Hondo is interested in had to at least be Named by the Empire.

Still. Anakin knows it’s a Jedi, but that means jack shit. It could be Mace Windu. It could be Jocasta Nu. No matter that Hondo had said the person in question was male. Hell it could be one of the Master’s he had helped out of the Temple. 

Who knew?

Not Anakin.

Even Hondo had fallen silent as they walk.

“He’s dangerous, you know? This Jedi.”

Anakin wants to scoff, but he holds it in. “You have yet to tell me who you think this Jedi is.”

“Well I don’t want to ruin it, ya know? Life’s all about finding the little surprises.”

Anakin does not know. 

The feeling of familiar-like-family became stronger and stronger. Anakin keeps his steps sure and firm. There is no time for wavering. For second guessing. The more his enemies think he has no emotions, no weaknesses, the better Anakin can survive.

Hondo gets to the door and makes a great big show of pressing in the number sequence, hidden behind his hand, like a kid hiding candy. Anakin should know, he’s watched Katooni hide sweets from Merium that way. His lips twitch involuntarily behind his lips. 

Maybe she has learned it from the pirate. That would certainly be an amusing turn of events. 

It almost seems to happen too fast after that. Hondo plays the keypad like a fiddle and then the door opening. Then the light turns on.

Then Anakin is face to face with Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

* * *

Anakin can’t help it. He freezes as he stares into his Master’s eyes.

Obi-Wan has seen better days, but perhaps not worse. Which is saying something. Anakin has seen Obi-Wan at his absolute lowest, still never allowing his pain to fully eclipse his oaths. Firm in the face of absolute sorrow, absolute hopelessness.

Then again, Anakin has never seen an Obi-Wan Kenobi without the full backing of the Jedi Order.

His beard is unkept, he isn’t in robes or even nice clothing, but rather something you’d find at any space port across the galaxy, canvas pants and layers of linen for the cold pockets between space and planet. His eyes are what sell it. They are full of fire, even as his wrists are shackled.

“Hondo, how nice of you to visit,” that accent, the scathing polite tone. Nobody else could copy that. “I am afraid your hospitality is lacking. You really need to talk to your crew about that,”

“Oh ho ho, Master Jedi, you know my crew have only been unerringly polite.” Then Hondo gestures sharply to Anakin. “But I’m afraid business is business.”

It’s a slimey excuse, but it’s an excuse.

“Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Anakin finally speaks, which shuts Hondo up. For a second.

Obi-Wan stares at him, carefully blank but Anakin knows Obi-Wan’s careful masks, and he sees that Obi-Wan finds his suit, himself, distasteful. Probably uncivilized.

Anakin smiles behind his helmet. Good. Exactly what he needed to be.

He is rather glad he decides to cloak himself, to hide, or else Obi-Wan might have given the game away to Hondo.

As it is. He’s perfect. 

“It seems I am at the disadvantage, my dear...” Obi-Wan’s eyes rove over the suit. “‘Mech. You know my name, and I don’t know yours.”

Oh that’s a good one. Rather backhanded.

Anakin has to play this right.

“A Jedi member of the High Council. The bounty alone on him could buy you and every single one of your crew members your own small moon.” Anakin announces to Hondo, sees Obi-Wan’s so very careful face mask crack a fraction, and he feels truly sorry, but he can’t back down now. “And you’re bringing me in to verify because...?”

Hondo smiles that pirate slimey smile.

“Always good for business to make... friends.”

Anakin cocks his head, as if he’s weighing the pirates' words. That's when he strikes.

Hondo hits the back of the cell, right next to Obi-Wan, from a single wave of Anakin’s hand. The crew is dazed and confused for all of a second, before they move forward, and Anakin treats them to the same treatment, except this time he brings them into the cell. He cocks his head, waiting, listening, before he soothes them into a more long-lasting unconsciousness than they could have reached by themselves.

Obi-Wan is staring at him.

Anakin could feel his cheeks aching from the smile he didn’t hide, as he uncloaks, not hiding how happy he is.

“You know, Master, you never call, you never write, a guy could think he doesn’t matter,”

And since he promised that he would not take off his helmet in front of enemies, that’s all he can offer besides his Force presence, that blooms in the room, taking up space as he does, reaching into every corner, taking over. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes are wide, shock coils around him like a snake, even as he stiffens. The smile that blooms across Obi-Wan's face is shy and tender, full of wonder and awe.

“Anakin.”

* * *

“We don’t have much time,” Anakin tells him, with a frown. As he summons his lightsaber from his boot and slashes Obi-Wan wrist, the cuffs falling around him. 

“We’ve got to move fast.” The lightsaber goes right back into its hiding spot. “I wouldn’t put it past Hondo to have some kind of alert system.”

Anakin nudges the leg of one of the crew members and the guy doesn’t even twitch.

Feeling better about it all, he turns and is immediately engulfed in a hug that could rival Gungi’s at his most needy. 

“Whoah!” Anakin staggers back in shock, but his arms come around Obi-Wan anyway. “Hey. Hey, it’s alright, Obi-Wan. I got you,”

“We all thought you had Fallen.”

Anakin stiffens. “What?”

“Palpatine made that speech, made it clear that you participated. He didn’t have any holos of it, like he did when he slaughtered the council, but nobody could find you.”

“I - “ Anakin hugs him right back. There is no time to explain, but Anakin can offer this, at the least. “I didn’t. I didn’t Fall. I did what I could - I saved some younglings and we’ve been running ever since.” 

Obi-Wan feels even more shocked than before.

“... Younglings?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story, Obi-Wan. And we don’t have time. I promise I’ll fill you in as soon as we’re clear of this place,”

He pulls Obi-Wan back, just far enough to talk face to face. Obi-Wan shocks him with tears in his eyes.

“Anakin, you have no idea - “

“Fuck, Obi-Wan, it’s so good to see you, and I’ll hug the fuck outta you later, but we gotta go,”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Obi-Wan pulls back, gathers the Force around him like a shield and a friend, a wall between them. “What’s the plan?”

Anakin chuckles. 

“You think I have a plan?”

Obi-Wan’s lips turn upward. 

“You’ve had to keep at least one child alive for the past month. I think you’ve got a plan.”

Well. He wasn’t wrong.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

The ship is exactly as Anakin remembers. Which means he knows where they were going, and also where the most likely point of ambush is, but he doesn’t know if the pirates have learned their lesson. On one hand, the ship is still docked, so probably not.

Other hand - 

Anakin skids to a stop as he realizes he feels... a lot more than one lifeform ahead of him.

“Kriff it all to the stars and back,” He hisses. 

“What?”

Anakin is almost impressed. He hasn’t seen this maneuver since the war and that had been by fifty Droids, Ventress, and a very thorough understanding of how ship doors open and close.

“They’re pull a fucking Gorian-block.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, before uttering, “Oh, that’s not good,” and grabbing Anakin’s wrist to yank him sideways into a new hallway. Right in time, as they hear a fair number of pirates run past them. Anakin brings the Force around them, hands shaking as he makes them all but invisible, all but nothing.

The pirates pass them.

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin still don’t relax, instead, quickly turn to confer with each other.

“This isn’t looking good.” Anakin mumbles.

“Bang up rescue job, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says right back.

Anakin glares.

“Hey! I didn’t plan anything!” He hisses. “In fact I - Oh.”

He blinks. Obi-Wan watches him cautiously. Anakin realizes that they have a perfect way to escape, one that Hondo would never expect. One that nobody in the galaxy would expect from him. Though it will be giving away... their identities.

“Watch my back,” Anakin said, as he quickly falls to his butt, takes a deep breath in and reaches for his bonds. Obi-Wan’s is bright, alive, and real right next to him which damn near makes it a hundred times hard to focus on those ones that are far away, simple, padawan-braided together with toughness and love. 

_Kids._ He sends out.

 _Brother,_ they all answer, as one, feeling his firm resolve and unwavering loyalty. Anakin almost wants to cry, how relieved he is to hear them. _What did you get yourself into now?_

_I need some assistance._

It is Gungi, and Gungi alone who answers. _What do you need from us?_

Anakin smiles.

_Hondo has us in his ship and I would very much appreciate a pick up._

Katooni’s high pitched laughter echoes down the bond.

 _Oh Brother,_ she says. _I’ve got a better idea._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last REAL chapter :sadface: and you guy's have been awesome!  
> Next chapter is a special characters POV, and then we have the Epilogue.  
> The reason I had to end it around about here is because this story was becoming a MONSTER, ya'll, it made it to 60K and I was only planning for 50K and that's a LOT. I do have some things to add onto in this universe, little things, but I thought it was pretty realistic that Anakin wasn't about to find out anything about the Clones. Nobody really knows until the Clones start revealing things and that's not gonna happen anywhere near Anakin that's for sure. Not right now anyway. Poor guy.  
> So, kinda gun on the table right now, but also like :shrug:


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue incoming today too! :)

When Obi-Wan first saw the Chancellor become the Emperor, he had been cold, shock ladening his limbs as his world fell around him. He didn’t remember much from the actual speech, not till later, when he was safer, when he was far away from his own men. 

It’s not until the second time, when he’s in a small bar off the hyperlane to Alderaan, that he _listens_. 

Everything Palpatine says is horrifying. Every word, every statement, every lie, and even worse, the truths. It’s not until he claims Anakin, claims his Padawan as the only Jedi to have the Empire’s clemency that he cries. He makes it outside, of course, back to his stolen ship, but he cries all the same. Anakin had always had the Chancellors ear. Always been at his side. Like an attack dog of the Republic, like they all had been, but the difference was that Palpatine actively fostered the relationship.

Obi-Wan had never hated himself more then, as he remembered every time Anakin came back from the man’s office. Beaming, happy, and unable to shut up. When he had been young, it had been cute, but as he grew, it had become... worrying. Obi-Wan knew that much. 

He had pushed it aside at the time. It was war, soon after, and there were so many different battlefields.

How could he be everywhere? How could he protect Anakin?

The answer was that he **_never was_ ** in a position to protect Anakin. 

When he goes back to the temple, finds Yoda, the lingering feeling of failure doesn’t leave. Not even when they find all the holos fried, the emergency activators unfired, unactivated, the dead bodies of the Jedi still lining the halls. No. It just increases exponentially. 

After he records his message, warning the Jedi away from Coruscant, he and Yoda escape, he is alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t help but regret not being on the planet to help Jedi escape. At the time, his orders had triumphed any kind of feeling in the Force.

How it had all failed.

How he had failed.

* * *

The galaxy is a shit place for Jedi now and Obi-Wan knows that better than most. His face is well known and it makes it hell to hide. He’s been on the run ever since the Jedi Massacre, even more so since he had broadcasted that message to all the Jedi, telling them to hide, to wait, to hope. 

Hondo finding him had been a fluke. A stupid fluke born of exhaustion and a misstep. 

He had only been in the cell for a few days, but he watches as Hondo parades in a man that was more mech than human.For the first time in a long time, he knows he isn’t getting out of this unscathed. The man, one Vrol Oler, is emotionless and void, and Obi-Wan dislikes the very feeling he got about the whole situation.

The bad feeling is right.

Only then the man had revealed himself. Had knocked Hondo and the guards unconscious. Had shown himself, beautiful in the Force, shocking Obi-Wan damn near speechless as he felt his Padawan’s force presence hug him tight, bring them together, excited like a tooka whose owner had come home. 

Anakin was alive. Alive.

Obi-Wan could have not prayed for more. 

* * *

Obi-Wan would be worried, except Anakin is smiling. Even under his mask, Obi-Wan knows. When Anakin smiles things always seem to work themselves out. Like right now. Which is a situation he is desperate to see the back side of. 

They had managed to escape for a few more minutes, before the ship doors start to close and herd them. Neither of the Jedi like the thought of that, but Anakin is too slow at hijacking the system, or Hondo had upgraded, or something that basically meant that escape any way but through was a pipe dream. Even if they used their lightsabers to cut holes in the ship.

Which, Hondo would consider, rightly so, a rude move.

So Obi-Wan and Anakin allow themselves to be herded.

Right into the middle of the ship. Luckily, the ship was still docked, as they could both see from the stars above them, stagnant and in place as they were. Anakin looks relieved to see where they were, which baffles Obi-Wan since he had refused to say what his plan was.

“You know, I was trying to be friends,” Hondo says, looking more like a drowned rat than the weequay pirate he is. “If you wanted the Jedi for yourself, you should have just said, Vrol.”

There is that name again. Obi-Wan doesn’t know it, but Anakin does. He steps in front of Obi-Wan, possessively guarding him, protective. 

It reminds Obi-Wan of all the times he had to protect Anakin.

“I think you misunderstood, Hondo Ohnaka,” Anakin says, in that synth voice he has. “Why exactly I’ve been hunting Jedi for.”

Hondo shakes his head. 

“I think I know well enough,” he cocks his head. “I just am not proficient enough to know every Jedi I come across. So who, might I ask, do I have the pleasure of making friends with today?”

Anakin is already frozen, already an immovable object. 

Obi-Wan can practically hear his thoughts. 

Not good. 

Anakin is about to respond when the skylight above them shatters, raining plasti-steel and glass down on them. Anakin and Obi-Wan both raise their hands to shield themselves from the worst of it, and in the action, Obi-Wan is able to see what exactly is happening.

There is a sound like scratching metal plates against metal plates, then the sound of screaming, young, youthful screams. Announcing they are here and Obi-Wan --

Obi-Wan stares.

* * *

There are seven children. Their backs are to Anakin and Obi-Wan, forming a half circle around them. One a padawan that looks so strikingly familiar, and the other six no more than ten. It’s... startling to see, Obi-Wan will admit. They all have lightsabers, held firmly and lit, a wall of Jedi. A wall of Jedi, when being a Jedi was the most illegal thing one could be. Especially as the little Tholothian girl walks forward, right up to Hondo, looks him straight in the eye and states firmly. 

“Hondo, let them go.”

Obi-Wan is beginning to think this is a dream, that Anakin isn’t here, that these children are just figments of his imagination. He ate something bad. This is all a bad dream, in the worst possible way.

Anakin is brimming with a kind of fond-annoyance-worry-hesitation that would be cute if it wasn’t so out of character.

The weequay pirate looks as if he has seen a ghost, frozen solid and staring at the little girl who isn’t more than half his height. Obi-Wan can relate. Obi-Wan thinks the shock is... horrified awe. He thinks it might even be something softer than that.

Nothing keeps the pirate down for long. Not even... whatever this was.

“Katooni! My darling!” Hondo greets, shocking Obi-Wan further. 

Katooni reaches forward, grabs his hand from where it is wide open, as if the man is going to hug her. She brings him close, hugging him herself, making it a moot point. The pirate wavers, smug countenance melting into that kind of face Obi-Wan had seen on every parents face of a kid begging for a puppy. Katooni hugs like the weequay pirate is precious. Lost. 

“Hondo. Please?”

Spluttering, the pirate can’t escape her hold, or doesn’t want to. It’s very hard to tell, Obi-Wan acknowledges to himself, watching. Anakin straightens up next to him before he takes a breath, then another, before reaching up to disengage the locks on his helmet. All the pirates watch as the bounty hunter before them is transformed into Anakin Skywalker.

“Hondo,” He says. “I really think it would be in your best interest to let us go.”

This time, when the pirate stares at them all, Obi-Wan can see he’s being worn thin.

“This is not good for business,” The weequay says. “But I might be... persuaded if you can make it worth my while.”

Obi-Wan can’t even be shocked when Anakin offers up. “Well. How about employment?”

He really, really tries to be shocked. He just can’t muster it.

This day has just been too damn weird.

* * *

Hondo relents with a shrewd kind of calculation in his eyes. 

“What kind of employment are we talking about, esteemed Jedi?”

Based on the way Anakin winces, Obi-Wan would bet neither of them were going to be called like that again. 

“I’ve made my mark on the galaxy already, my name is one that will open doors for you. I’ll contract solely with you.” Anakin says, adding firmly. “In return, you get a portion of whatever credits I bring in, only if you’re the one contracting though.”

Hondo weighs up the words and then Obi-Wan watches as Anakin does what he does best: haggle. 

The kids around them are frozen little statues, watchful, with their lightsabers at the ready. Anakin has had them for no more than a month and a half and yet they are well advanced for their age. Their stances vary, of course they do, nearly as much as their height and weight, but Obi-Wan sees true skill behind them.

“Deal.”

Obi-Wan blinks. Oh dear. Did he miss the deal?

Hondo narrows his eyes before nodding. 

“Deal.”

“Glad to be doing business with you, Hondo,” Anakin states, firmly before putting his helmet back on. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got a Jedi to settle.”

“Yes, yes,” Hondo is still watching them, especially the little girl. Then he hesitates which makes Obi-Wan’s fingers itch for a weapon. But the man just steps forward and smiles at her. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid,”

She smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re okay, too, Hondo.”

It was tense as Anakin whistles, once, sharply. The kids all disengage their lightsabers and – Obi-Wan swears he didn’t blink – make them disappear. One second, the sabers are in their hands, the next gone. It’s impressive, even though Obi-Wan knows they probably just hid them on their person. Probably.

Anakin leads and the kids all fall in line, surrounding Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan finds it welcome but also embarrassing. Does he look that out of it?

The light is bright as they exit the craft and Obi-Wan has to blink away sun-spots that swim in his vision. They make it out of the ship, onto the landing ramp, where there is another ship planted solidly, landed a little haphazardly. Even with the weequay pirates behind them watching, Anakin chuckles.

“I’m guessing Petro piloted and landed?” He asks, fond amusement strumming the force. 

“I did.” The little human boy says proudly.

“Good job.”

All the kids light up in the Force. One bit of praise is good enough for all of them. Anakin has them eating out of the palm of his hand, Obi-Wan observes with wry amusement and disbelief.

It’s not until they are up the ramp, with the ramp closing behind them that Anakin finally turns to the children and sweeps the two little girls into his arms that the silence is broken.

“Good job guys!” Anakin announces, laughing wildly as he swings the girls around as they giggle. “Force, you guys sure know how to surprise a guy, huh?” He states as he dropped them down, only to turn and sweep the next two into a hug. The last hug reserved for the wookiee and the older boy, who is blushing but doesn’t try to wiggle out of the embrace.

After everyone has been properly hugged and praised, Anakin finally turns to Obi-wan. He breathes deeply, but the smile doesn’t leave his face.

“Master.” He states firmly, and hugs him just as firmly as he does any of the kids. “It’s so good to see you.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t fight the hug, instead embracing the harsh angles of the suit and letting Aakin’s brightness of the Force scare away the shadows on his own.

Their hug lasts the longest, but none of the children mind. In fact, they were being so well behaved Obi-Wan damn near forgot they were there, as he allowed himself to soak up the joy at finding his Anakin well, sane, and not a pet to the new Empire. All the fears he had harbored over his Padawan’s assumed Fall were washed away in the glow of his presence.

When he pulls back, Anakin touches his face, unable to quit smiling as he turns to the kids.

“So.” Anakin said. “Ice cream?”

The kids all whoop and cheer. The chatter starts up about what kind they are going to get, and ‘do you like chocolate, Obi-Wan?’ and ‘I can’t believe Hondo just let us go’. Anakin watches them like they are his own, fond-proud-amused-delighted coating him and hugging him like a blanket. It’s a good look on him, one that Obi-Wan had never actually expected to ever see on any Jedi with the war ever looming. 

Obi-Wan can’t help but be charmed, and he can’t interrupt, not even to tell Anakin that his wife is fine, the babies are fine. Not even to tell Anakin to stop worrying.

Everything, for the first time in a long, long time, is fine.

* * *

After the ice cream, Obi-Wan and Anakin duck into the cockpit. 

Anakin fiddles with some switches, checking a system. Obi-Wan knows it's to distract himself. Distract himself from staring at Obi-Wan. But it doesn’t last long. Soon he has Anakin’s eyes on him, that smile that’s two parts relieved and one part desperately thankful. 

“Padme is fine.” Is all Obi-Wan can think to blurt out. 

The way Anakin freezes, hands shaking, can only be described as tumultuous. 

“Shes - and the - “ Anakin stumbles over his words, as if all his hopes are wrapped up in them. “They’re alright?”

Obi-Wan nods. “She and the little ones are on Alderaan.”

Anakin blinks dumbly. “Little... ones? Plural?” His breath hitches and his mouth drops. “As in – as in more than one?”

“Luke.” Obi-Wan gives him like a gift. “And Leia.” 

Anakin flinches in the force after he speaks the girl's name. Force presence coiling around himself like an open wound. It was a curious painful reaction, but Obi-Wan hardly knows what has happened these past few weeks. These past months. 

“Children.” Anakin says.

“Tell me.” Obi-Wan demands. “Tell me what happened after I left, Anakin?”

Anakin doesn’t just burst out with it. He sits on it. Waits. Weighs his words. He had never been that way during the war, not even during their most trying times. To be still, was not Anakin’s forte. When Anakin opens his mouth, Obi-Wan finally understands. 

“I suppose it begins like all things begin, like all betrayal does,” his smile was not reassuring, nor was the wetness of his voice as he cleared his throat. “Palpatine broke my heart.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND! That's all she wrote folks :) THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME AND LOVING ANAKIN SKYWALKER AND HIS NON-VADER WAYS :D

“You should meditate, Vrol,” Merium tells him.

Being his meditation buddy means she also takes it upon herself to remind him to meditate when he’s anxious. Like right now.

“We’re about five minutes out,” he tells her with amusement. “I’ll meditate after.”

After he sees his wife. After he sees his children. Children. Plural. He still can’t quite wrap his head around that. Multiple children. Twins. A boy and a girl. It’s hard to believe. He smiles to himself, well, alright that’s not true. He’s currently got seven children all on his own, without his wife’s help, but this is different.

Luke and Leia. They are just names to him, but he yearns for them now more than ever.

Obi-Wan had patched him in to talk with Padme a few days ago. A five minute conversation, with four of those minutes spent staring at each other and spluttering words in between tears, heartfelt apologies and defenses both.

Boy and that had been a fun conversation with the kids. Jedi kids, who had never heard of a Jedi having a family, let alone a wife, except by special approval by the council. It had been a long, tiresome conversation, but the kids had surprised him by being... understanding. Even excited to see children that weren’t Jedi raised, just babies.

The autopilot starts its descent toward Aldera, Alderaan’s capital, where Bail Organa lived.

Where Padme was currently hidden away from the Empire.

Anakin could have kicked himself over how obvious Padme had been about which senators she considered friends. Less obvious, perhaps, about which were her truest of friends, who held her same love of democracy, and who had been terribly saddened to see the galaxy devolve into the Empire.

His knee wouldn’t stop bouncing as he watches through the viewport, as the ground grows closer and closer. He reaches out, trying to sense Padme, the presence of his children, but there were just so many people he can’t. Not even as they drew closer and closer.

“Strap in for landing!” He calls to the crowd in the back. 

The whole ship is alight with nervous, excited energy, all orbiting around the serene calm of Obi-Wan. Yet still, this is easy. No hardship. Anakin would much prefer landing in these kinds of situations than any other.

With hope surrounding every decision. 

He first feels Padme’s light reaching out to him as the landing ramp drops, inch by inch. She had with her two blinding presences in the Force, like little lightbulbs set to flare. Luke and Leia already had such separate feelings, but Anakin doesn’t know which was which. 

He is going to delight in learning.

He meets everyone in the cargo hold. The bubbling of all their emotions clashing heavily together. Anxiety. Fear. Happiness. Obi-Wan smiles at him in that kind of way Anakin had become used to, with exasperated fondness for the children he was surrounded with and pure joy at seeing something besides death and destruction.

The wait until the ramp has touched the ground is agonizing. He is so close.

A hand slips into his own and he looks down, startled to see Byph looking up at him.

“It’s going to be okay,” Byph tells him. “We’ll figure it out,”

Anakin smiles at him.

“Yes. Yes we will.”


End file.
